


Challenge 3: Tropesmash 2.0

by dragonofslash



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 60,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofslash/pseuds/dragonofslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries for Challenge Three: Tropesmash 2.0 for the 2015 Summer Pornathon.</p><p>The voting form can be found <a href="http://goo.gl/forms/ytIWOZBGtT">here</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HERE IT IS. THE SMASHING, KINKY PORN!
> 
> Pairings and warnings included in chapters 1-4.
> 
> Chapters 5-8 are repeats of chapters 1-4 without pairing and warning information.

**1.**

**Pairings:** Gwen/Morgana  
**Warnings:** none 

The village at the end of the dirt road was small. It didn't have many luxuries but it did have a general goods store and an inn. 

Tending to the Inn every Tuesday-Friday evening was a lovely girl named Gwen. Sitting at the bar most of these nights, was Morgana Pendragon. 

Morgana Pendragon was a respectable woman with a mean streak five miles wide. She could shoot a bandit, with a gun he didn't even know she had, before he could blink twice in the direction of someone else's gold. 

Now, Morgana was fiercely protective of Gwen. Every now and again there would be a stranger coming through town thinking that he'd like to try and take her upstairs and get with her. If she said no and they persisted well, Morgana took care of that. 

One of these times, a gambler named Helios came through town. He was suave with honeyed words and almost convinced Gwen to drink with him before she caught that his intentions were less than honorable. When she rejected him, he became violent and Morgana stepped in with a colt pointed at his forehead before he knew what hit him. 

He had backed down and proposed a wager. A game of dice. She won, she got to take Gwen to her room. He won, he got to spend the night with Morgana. Morgana accepted to wager easily, he wouldn't survive the night if he won anyways, and Gwen would be upset at her if she killed someone in the Inn. It was bad for business. 

They were both surprised when she won spectacularly. Helios laughed, saying something about the dice showing true intentions, and ushered Morgana to take Gwen upstairs to where she was staying. Gwen, thoroughly amused by this chain of events followed her, giggling. 

"Ohhh what are you going to do with me Morgana?" She joked, flopping down on Morgana's bed. Morgana met her gaze and leaned over her, kissing her mouth. Gwen surprisedly reciprocated. 

Soon, Morgana had Gwen's petticoat lifted over her head and was kissing the inside of her thighs. Gwen was shaking all over and felt the wetness between her legs. The feeling was foreign to her. She had never been touched in this way before. Morgana licked at her folds and swirled around her clit until Gwen was bursting at the seams for release. Morgana pressed a finger inside of her and pumped it in and out, flicking her tongue on Gwen's clit. Soon she drew Gwen's orgasm out of her with a startled cry. Morgana could feel her cunt convulsing with pleasure. 

"I'll always protect you, Gwen," Morgana whispered into her thigh. 

But, as things would turn out, she wouldn't.

* * *

**2.**

**Pairing(s):** Gwen/Morgana  
**Warnings:** Tropes smashed: canon/fuck-or-die/praise-kink. The 'omegas die in heat without sex' variant of ABO, with all the dubious consent issues that that entails. But … sweet and loving ABO fuck-or-die? Is that a thing? It's a thing now. 

'It certainly feels fresh in here,' says Morgana, sweeping into her chambers with a swirl of skirts. Gwen, hot and uncomfortable in her stifling skirts despite the open windows, does her best to smile.

'Glad you like it,' she says. She's changed the sheets, washed the floors, and she's proud of her work. But it's just _too hot_ in here. Morgana, of course, looks as lovely as ever, poised, perfect, desirable - 

Morgana stills suddenly, and a sharp look crosses her face. 'Gwen,' she says, 'Are you feeling alright?'

Gwen isn't, no. She … she _wants_ , restlessly, but she can't put a name to what it is that she wants. 'I'm … fine, I just. It's very hot today, don't you think?'

Morgana reaches out,, as if she's going to touch Gwen's cheek. 'Sweetling, it's the first day of spring.' Her gaze is making Gwen shiver with heat, and a tingling between her legs that's mortifying. 'You don't know,' Morgana breathes. 'Gwen, beautiful, you're in your heat. You - ' and Morgana takes a step back. 'Tell me that you have an alpha, someone you're seeing in the village? Someone to look after you.'

But Gwen doesn't - her duties in the palace and at home mean she doesn't have time for the alphas that come by the forge occasionally, no matter how good they smell, or how kind they are. She shakes her head. 'I didn't think it would … be so soon.' She'd thought she had years still before this moment. And now … 

'Shhh, listen to me,' says Morgana intently. 'Gwen? Darling, I can help you. Do you hear me? I can help you through your heat. But you have to agree.'

Gwen blinks, until she can see Morgana's face clearly. Her life has been filled with Morgana since Uther Pendragon stalked into Gwen's father's forge and hired her as maid and companion for his teenage ward. But this? Morgana's a lady, and Gwen's just -

'- the person I love most in the world,' Morgana interrupts. 'Let me help you.'

Gwen takes a shaking step and reaches for her mistress. 'You shouldn't.'

'I want to,' says Morgana, folding Gwen into her arms. 

***

Morgana's nails scratch gentle and sharp on Gwen's thighs, where's she's a mess, embarrassingly wet, but Morgana never takes no for an answer, not when she has a quest. 'Be still, sweet,' she breathes, the warmth of her breath tickling Gwen's skin. 'You're being such a good girl for me.'

Gwen's eyes scrunch shut as a wave of feeling wracks her, and her knees stop fighting Morgana's weight between her. 'That's it, you're perfect,' Morgana croons, bending to kiss Gwen right where she's slick. 

Gwen doesn't feel perfect. She's burning up with the worst fever she's ever had, like ants crawling over her skin except the cool-silk feeling where Morgana touches her. Morgana sits up, licking her lips - Gwen cries out. 'Hush, love,' Morgana whispers, leaning up and loosening her bodice. 'Just let me. You're so good for me.' 

The caress of Morgana's palm over Gwen's taut nipple is such a sweet relief. When Morgana kisses it, the wetness between Gwen's legs feels like an ocean. 

'Are you ready for me to knot you?'

_'Please.'_

Morgana presses in, tight, satisfying, until their bellies press together. 'That's it,' she murmurs. She runs her fingers through Gwen's mussed hair, moves her hips. The places they rub together make something light up to the tips of Gwen's fingers. 'That's it, love. That's it.'

'It hurts,' Gwen moans, because it does, the fever is ripping into her now. The only place she feels unbruised and unburnt is where their bodies join. 

'I know, sweetling. I'll make it stop, I swear,' Morgana says, sounding as desperate as Gwen feels, as she fucks deeper into Gwen's hungry body. 'Please, darling, just stay with me,'

'Not … going anywhere,' Gwen pants, hooking her legs around Morgana's hips, trying to pull her in deeper, to quell the need. 

Morgana's eyes shudder closed. Inside Gwen she swells all of a sudden, locking them together, and the dripping wetness between them is an ocean that Gwen crests on a wave, no longer burning with fever but sated, satisfied, with them tied together.

'Perfect,' Morgana breathes.

* * *

**3.**

**Pairing(s):** Vivian/Morgana  
**Warnings:** n/a  
**Tropes:** small town, enemies to lovers, spanking

“I hate her,” Vivian says earnestly. “Sort of a lot.”

Leon makes an agreeable noise and hands another pint across the bar. “You mentioned that a couple of times.”

She sniffs. “Well, it is _still true_.” Her vision is sort of bleary at this point, but she scowls in the general direction of Morgana Fucking Pendragon anyway. She hated her enough in high school, and now she's a fucking rock star and back in Camelot for a month in between tours to lord her fame over the town and really, it's terrible.

Morgana Fucking Pendragon is still really fucking gorgeous, Vivian decides when she manages to catch Morgana's eye and Morgana smirks and toasts her. That is also terrible.

“I really hate her.”

Leon sighs. “Sure.”

*

It's less than a week before Morgana is kissing her in the back room at the pub, mouth hot against Vivian's, tasting more of mint than of beer. Vivian should be more surprised than she is that they've ended up here.

“I hate this fucking town,” says Morgana, almost conversational. “Never thought you of all people would stay here, but at least you're something to do.”

Vivian bites her neck, and Morgana fights back, grabs for Vivian's wrists and presses her against the wall. “God, you're a bitch, always have been.”

“But here you are, spreading your legs for me.”

That's an idea. Vivian grapples her arms free until she can get leverage to put her legs around Morgana's waist, skirt rucking up until the thin silk of her panties is pressing up against the button on Morgana's jeans. Morgana is model-skinny, but she takes the weight, presses Vivian into the wall so she's pinned like a butterfly, grinds up against her. Vivian bites her again.

“You're such a fucking brat,” Morgana says, through a moan.

Vivian looks up through her lashes. “What are you going to do about it?”

*

Morgana's bedroom is still a teenager's, walls covered in band posters, bookshelf full of school books, a dusty radio in one corner, a deep purple comforter.

Vivian is clutching the comforter now, eyes on her own white knuckles. She's turned over Morgana's bony lap, pressing down against her thigh, not sure if she wants to grind against it or not.

The first slap is barely a sting, and it startles a laugh out of her. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

The next one is harder. Vivian flinches from it, and it's not going to matter if she wants to grind against Morgana or not, because automatic reaction from the pain will do it for her. “Harder,” she says, because if she can't resist, she'll take everything she can.

“Greedy.” Morgana hits her again, hard enough that the sound of the slap echoes before Vivian even registers the pain.

“Come on, _more_.”

“Brat,” says Morgana, and spanks her again, so hard that she cries out, glad the Pendragon house is musty and shut-up, just a vacation home now. No one needs to hear this.

“Again,” Vivian demands, over and over, until her skin his hot and sore where Morgana has been spanking her and her cunt is dripping, the skin of Morgana's thigh slick and shiny where she's been rubbing against it.

Morgana dumps her on her back, ignoring the affronted noise Vivian makes when the comforter rubs against her ass, strangely rough when her skin is so sore, and parts Vivian's thighs to settle between them. “You like that,” she says with a red-lipped smirk.

“As if I'd let you do it to me if I didn't,” says Vivian, and pulls Morgana's mouth down to hers to smudge all that perfect lipstick.

*

“Coming with me tonight?” Morgana whispers, arm sliding around Vivian's waist. “We've only got a week left to have fun, and I packed my strap-on just in case.”

Vivian shrugs her off, because Leon is watching, his eyebrows raised. Even if he can't hear what Morgana is saying, he's got to assume. It's hard to keep secrets in Camelot. “Fuck off.”

“I'll take that as a yes, then,” says Morgana, and wanders off again to charm the locals until Vivian is ready to go.

“Still hate her?” Leon asks, topping up her pint.

Vivian has a bright bruise just under the neckline of her blouse, and she's sore and sensitive from how long Morgana went down on her last night, looking up at her dark-eyed and wicked the whole time. “Passionately.”

* * *

**4.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** kink used: crying

 

"The general from Rome has arrived." 

"Has he sent for me? I can't imagine the physician is the first person he wants to see in an army camp."

"There was a raid on the way to camp. Quite a few deaths, more injuries, and the general--"

"Tell them I'm coming. Wait--Elyan! Who did they send?" 

But Elyan is already gone, and Merlin can't help the sound of frustration that escapes. Three weeks of rain, at least two raids, and a collapsed bridge over the stream behind the camp, now this. 

If he hadn’t wanted to leave Rome so desperately fifteen years ago, and if some of that desperation still didn't cling to his heart, Merlin would be ready to leave this last raw edge of the empire behind. 

\- - 

"You're lucky. You've quite a few bruises and lacerations, but none of them serious." Merlin wills his hands to stay still and steady as he smoothes the bandages over the general's chest. 

The man nods. He'd commanded Merlin to see to his men first, though he'd been weak from blood loss. When Merlin finishes, he gives him a long, serious look and says in a sad voice, "Do you not remember me, Merlin?"

The thing that Merlin has held taught inside himself for the past few hours--god, for the past fifteen years--suddenly trembles. Merlin clasps his hands behind his back to stop them from shaking. "I do. But we were just boys, then. You should get some rest." 

He tells his assistant to give the general wine and food; he leaves before anyone can ask him any more questions.

\- - - - 

A week of more rain, of the autumn chill that creeps between the chinks in the walls of the barracks, passes before Arthur visits Merlin's private room. 

"Can I come in?" 

"You're the commander here," Merlin says, then regrets the words when Arthur hovers on the threshold. "Of course you can."

He's clad only in his tunic and sandals, more than a few of the cuts and bruises he received in the raid still visible. He waits for Merlin to put aside the wax tablets he's writing in, and sits next to him on the bed.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Arthur says, and continues before Merlin can reply, "And that I'd forget your smile, and your voice. I haven't." 

Merlin touches Arthur's wrist, then lets his fingers slide between Arthur's. They'd fought, violently and viciously as the young do, and Merlin finds he cannot bear to let himself remember that. 

"When I left--"

"Don't, please," Arthur murmurs. He looks down at their entwined hands, then slips his from Merlin's to touch Merlin's face. "We were only boys then, as you said. But now--"

"You are unchanged," Merlin says, "in all the ways that matter." He leans into Arthur's touch, and leans forward to press his lips to Arthur's. 

And Arthur is unchanged--he is still recklessly brave and generous, and the years have not taken the softness that appears in his eyes during quiet moments like this. He exhales shakily, moves away from the kiss, then rests his forehead against Merlin's. 

There's always been something about Arthur, something small and hidden and delicate, that strikes Merlin right in his heart. Arthur keeps his vulnerabilities locked inside, unspoken, but Merlin can still find them. 

He kisses Arthur again, lightly on the lips, then turns to whisper something soft and wordless against his ear, following it with more kisses and a murmured 'I missed you so.'

It's the little ragged sound that Arthur makes, the breath that catches in his chest and that he releases with a choking sob, that unravels all of Merlin's control. Arthur's eyes are a little damp, and his breath is uneven, and Merlin cannot help but touch Arthur's face, the curve of his neck, the warm place where Merlin can feel the flutter of his heartbeat. He brushes the tear from the corner of Arthur's eye with his thumb, kisses his parted lips.

Desire rushes through Merlin, hot and unexpected, and he draws Arthur closer to him. As close as he can, until they are both hard and struggling for breath, stretched out on Merlin's narrow bed. He brings Arthur off first, wanting a new memory to carry with him should they be parted again.

* * *

**5.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/tentacles/Merlin  
**Warnings:** Tentacles. Dub!con. Look, I'm just sorry.  
Arthur woke to the sun streaming through the windows and an empty chamber that meant that Merlin was late. Again. Pushing himself out of bed, Arthur collared a servant passing in the corridor to dress him and fetch breakfast. By the time he’d finished there was still no sign of Merlin and Arthur’s patience was wearing thin. 

Trying to remember why he kept Merlin around, Arthur headed out in search of him. This afternoon, Arthur was supposed to be training with the knights. Maybe a couple of hours holding the target during practise would help teach Merlin a thing or two. Arthur grinned at the thought. And if he had some fun too, well that was just a bonus.

He was headed down the stairs towards Gaius’s chambers when he was taken. Something wrapped around his waist and yanked him backwards. Arthur’s hand reached for his sword; which was still in the armoury because the King of Camelot did not expect to be attacked in his own castle without warning. He tried to call for aid, but before he had the chance, something wet clamped down over his mouth. Arthur struggled against his assailant but was unable to dislodge the grip as he was pulled backwards until the world turned white.

Arthur had never seen anything like this place. It was just a white haze as far as he could see. All except for a familiar figure lying crumpled in a heap in front of him. Arthur screamed for Merlin through the attacker’s firm grip and renewed his attempts to get free. 

He was dropped unceremoniously on the floor and the attacker disappeared from view. Not wasting any time, Arthur scrambled to Merlin’s side. There was blood seeping from a cut on his temple but Arthur couldn’t see any other obvious injuries. Arthur shook his shoulder. “Merlin? Merlin, answer me.”

Merlin groaned. “Arthur, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for a new manservant. My current one is always late.” Arthur pulled Merlin into a sitting position. 

“Won’t happen again.” Merlin coughed. “Would you believe it if I told you I had a good excuse?” 

“The tavern is not a good excuse, Merlin. C’mon.” Arthur helped Merlin to his feet and looked around them for any means of escape.

As Arthur was deliberating which way into the white to try first, their kidnapper returned and Arthur got his first look at the creature. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen; comprised mostly of long, purple tentacles that were encroaching on them again.

Arthur tried to retreat but the tentacles were too fast and two of the tentacles wrapped themselves around them and pulled Arthur and Merlin up against each other. The tentacles kept coming and Arthur felt one slip beneath his breeches. He renewed his struggles but it was no use and the tentacle pushed inside him. 

The sensation wasn’t as Arthur expected. He’d braced himself for pain, but the tentacle was warm and comforting. More than that, it started to move and Arthur felt his body begin to respond. From Merlin’s surprised gasp, Arthur knew he wasn’t the only one. 

He wanted to keep fighting, but the feeling was too good. Arthur couldn’t concentrate on anything except the tentacle that was slowly working inside of him. 

“Arthur.” Merlin let out a groan of pleasure and clung to him. Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin and gave himself over to the tentacles. Deep inside, a voice was telling him that this was wrong, that it had to be the result of sorcery but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Another tentacle wrapped itself around his dick, an all encompassing heat and Arthur bit down on Merlin’s shoulder to keep quiet. He slid his hands underneath Merlin’s shirt to the soft skin there. The feel of Merlin under his fingers combined with the workings of the tentacled creature pushed Arthur to completion. Merlin came with him and they sagged against each other, only the strength of the tentacles holding them up. With no idea what was going to happen to them, Arthur took a chance and pressed his lips to Merlin’s. 

 

The next thing he knew they had landed in a heap on the stairs outside physician’s chambers. The door opened and Gaius appeared, looking them both up and down with a raised eyebrow. 

Gaius just held up a hand. “When you’re quite finished with Merlin, Sire, may I borrow him to run some errands?”

* * *

**6.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Vivian  
**Warnings:** Noncon, additional flavours of dubcon, objectification. Challenge combo is The Future/Fuck or Die/Dubcon.

The nice thing about Vivian is she doesn’t look like a stray. 

“She’s a handful,” Trickler admits, showing Arthur to her viewing window. “But nothing the tagging won’t fix.” 

“She’s perfect,” Arthur says. 

“Excellent.” Trickler rubs his hands together. “You have what I need? It’s gotta be fresh.” 

“Right here,” Arthur says, handing him a sealed vial of his semen. Trickler shakes it, waggling his eyebrows, then disappears into Vivian’s pen. Twenty minutes later, Arthur’s helping her into his car.

**+**

Just as suspected, Vivian cleans up beautifully. Washed and dried, fitted in couture, she looks like a corporate princess. She hasn’t spoken, and at dinner she pushes carrots around on her plate for twenty minutes before Arthur sits back from his meal.

“Hungry?” he asks. She jerks her head ‘no’. “Thirsty?” 

She goes still aside from the slightest curling of her lip. 

Finally, she gives a single nod. Arthur’s pulse jumps. He pushes back from the table, watching her as he slowly unzips his trousers. She struggles silently for another obvious moment before coming to settle between his knees.

**+**

“How does it work?” Arthur asks.

“It’s fascinating stuff. Lots of gibberish our techs love to natter about, but on the most basic level, humans are computers. We’ve just learned how to hack them.” Trickler shrugs.

**+**

Arthur wakes to a hot mouth around his dick and startles a bit before he remembers. He settles back into his pillows with a smile and lets Vivian work, rumbling an appreciative sound when she fucks him deep into her throat.

“S’good,” he says, rolling his hips. 

She’s not coy about it, and his orgasm rushes up on him fast. He considers holding off, but what would be the point? 

He doesn’t warn her, just finishes with a happy groan and tucks his hands behind his head to enjoy her cleaning him up with her tongue.

**+**

“Are there side effects? Other things I should know about?”

“No side effects that we know of, but standard disclaimers apply. Everyone’s biology is unique, after all.” Trickler passes him a stack of papers to sign. “We do warn that prolonged withdrawal can make them a touch nutty, but I think a bit of a wait makes them more fun.”

**+**

He gets his prick out quietly the afternoon he finds her napping on the windowseat, careful not to wake her as he flips her skirt up. It doesn’t take much stroking to draw a bead of precome to his cockhead, and he smears it along her slit just to watch her go plump and flush at the touch of fluid.

He sinks into her like a dream and she’s not even fully awake. Her body welcomes him in spite of the way she groans and starts to tense. 

“Shhh kitten,” he soothes, sliding deep. “Almost done.”

**+**

“Oh, you’ll want these,” Trickler says, handing him a pack of what look like condoms. Arthur’s face must show his confusion, because Trickler giggles. “Proprietary design, free with your first purchase. Be conservative with them though, because you’ll have to pre-order from here on out.”

**+**

Vivian is on him the minute he walks through the door. He’s only been gone a week, but her desperation is obvious, almost frenzied. He holds her off until they get into his bedroom but once he’s hit the bed it’s barely a minute before she’s riding him fast and hard.

He holds her hips and lets her go, her cunt sucking wet and hot around his shaft. She steadies herself on his chest, needy little mewls squeaking past her control. Arthur groans laughingly when he realises she’s paid attention to what he likes, combining tricks in an effort to get him to come as fast as she can. 

It’s working, in spite of the preparatory wank he had in the car on his way back from the airport. 

She works him until Arthur tightens his hands on her hips and holds her down, and the look of relief on her face is beatific while he grunts and shudders. Then her eyes widen, horrified. 

Arthur topples her off his lap and rolls off the condom, impressed at the engineering that made it look and feel nonexistent. 

Vivian lunges for it too late; it hits Arthur’s incinerator before she can get past him. 

He laughs, restraining her. “Calm down. Give it a few more hours, you’ll get what you want,” he promises, drawing her in tighter against him. “And so will I,” he adds, trailing his thumb into the crack of her arse. 

Vivian whimpers, shivering.

* * *

**7.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** non-con

Plugged

Arthur hoped to bed Merlin someday, lavishing him with soft touches and whispering sweet words into his adorable ears. The manservant who Uther had assigned to him was pretty to look at and charming in every way. Although Arthur found Merlin alluring, he never once thought of taking him, imposing his royal privilege on the gangly boy from Ealdor. Arthur thought they would have plenty of time to get to know each other, as servant and prince, before Arthur made his move. He never dreamed it would come to this.

“Why do you think I made him your manservant?” Uther shouted.

Arthur bit his tongue.

With a crowd of Uther’s councillors looking on, Merlin stood with his palms pressed against the high table in the great hall. His trousers had been stripped away and a pair of Uther’s henchmen held his legs apart. The pale skin of his buttocks caught the candlelight. And when Uther spread Merlin’s arse cheeks wide, the dimple of his opening was invisible to all but the closest onlookers.

“Father,” Arthur complained. “There’s no need for such barbarity!”

Uther simply turned to Arthur and glared, saying, “I can’t believe he’s been with you for six months, and the boy is still left untried.”

It was futile for Arthur to complain about the spectacle that played out in the great hall. Uther had a reputation to uphold. Arthur knew Uther would never bow to his son’s wishes to leave Merlin alone, no matter how much he protested.

Uther turned his attention back to Merlin. He circled a gloved finger around Merlin’s hole while the councillors murmured their approval. Not one of them moved to stop Uther. Arthur would remember well their failure to take action when a member of the royal household suffered at the king’s hand.

Arthur would be king one day and he vowed that such depravity would cease with his reign.

“Bring the oil,” Uther called, and a servant provided him with a bowl.

Arthur fought to restrain himself. The heat rose to his cheeks at the sight of Merlin’s nakedness. Arthur could tell by Merlin’s shuddering shoulders that he was sobbing.

Uther rucked Merlin’s tunic up above his waist and stripped off a glove with his teeth. With drenched fingers, Uther explored Merlin’s tiny hole in front of the court. He slipped a finger inside the boy when he deemed that he had been suitably stretched.

Arthur heard Merlin’s intake of panicked breath at the intrusion. He cringed to think that Merlin’s first experience with sex was to have Uther abuse him.

 

Uther plunged his fingers in and out of Merlin’s squelching hole. The guards manhandled Merlin roughly when he tried to wriggle free.

Satisfied with his work, Uther stepped back and motioned to a serving boy. 

The servant produced a heavy plug, fashioned from metal and gilded with pure gold. Arthur could think of better uses for the realm’s riches.

Merlin’s thighs quivered when Uther traced his hole with the plug, working him open by tiny increments until finally, Uther seated the plug inside him.

Merlin settled uncomfortably, his bare feet flat on the cold stone floor.

Uther stepped back and admired the golden flare that emerged from Merlin’s arse.

“If you find him so displeasing that you won’t use him to catch your royal seed until you’re wed, I’ll hang him in the morning and find you another,” Uther said.

Arthur froze. He couldn’t let his father put Merlin to death.

The smack of a hand on a buttock rang through the great hall.

Arthur cringed as Uther’s hand struck Merlin’s arse again, turning the skin pink. Merlin’s cock had grown hard as he whimpered in time with the sharp slaps. A thin strand of clear fluid dripped from its tip.

“He likes it, Arthur,” Uther said. “You should have no trouble using him as I intended.”

Arthur choked back a gasp. “I’ll take care of it, Sire,” he said. “You can stop!”

Uther made one final sweep of the hall, making sure each councillor watched him. He grasped the flared part of the plug that protruded from Merlin’s arse and gave it a thump that made Merlin come in spurts, coating the table where he stood.

Uther turned his attention from Merlin’s arse to his son and said, “See that you do.”

Arthur rushed forward, throwing off his cloak. He swathed Merlin in the red fabric and ushered him off to his bedchamber, promising that he’d never let Uther hurt him again.

* * *

**8.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** voyeurism via telepathic connections?

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Morgana asks him over eggs Benedict.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “That’s not a very neutral way of putting it.”

“How would you say it, then?”

“I’d say it’s just happening more frequently,” Arthur replies. “If you say ‘getting worse’ you make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Is it happening now?”

“…Yes,” Arthur says after a beat. His little London flat is silent, but he can hear the steady beat of the music, feel the bass thumping in his chest, see the multicolored flashing lights in his peripheral vision. Everything smells a little like sweat and alcohol, and—

—

Merlin sits at the bar with Will, the blaring club music so loud he has to fight the urge to cover his ears. Behind them, bodies are dancing in a sea of colors and light. It’s Friday night, and Osaka’s biggest nightclub is completely packed.

“You did the whole job interview in English?” Will is saying, looking impressed. “You’re too good at this English thing.”

“Unlike someone I know, I actually paid attention in English class,” Merlin says.

Will snorts. “That’s a lie,” he says, and then signals the bartender to refill their shot glasses. “You don’t pay attention—you’re just….”

Will trails off, and Merlin nods, because how does he explain that learning English felt like remembering something he already knew, like riding a bike or singing song lyrics? How can he explain this, when he he’s lived in Japan his whole life? 

“It’s that _thing_.” Will says eventually. “Your weird thing.”

“Yeah,” Merlin agrees and knocks back the shot. It tastes like eggs and hollandaise. 

—

_When Arthur was six, he’d wake up some mornings speaking only Japanese. It terrified his parents so badly that they sent him to a child therapist._

_There was nothing wrong with Arthur, of course. The therapist told his parents it was just a phase he would grow out of. When Arthur was eight, it didn’t happen anymore—or at least, not that his parents could see._

—

When Merlin gets back that night, he goes straight to the bathroom and stands in front of the mirror. He stares at his reflection in his empty apartment, and then, feeling a little foolish, says, “Arthur?” 

There’s a pause, and—

It’s bright in Arthur’s flat. Daytime. Arthur’s reflection stares back at him and he’s grinning. Merlin likes that grin, more than he should admit.

“Merlin?” says Arthur.

“I think it’s getting harder to control it,” Merlin says. “Harder to keep everything… separate.”

“Yeah, Arthur agrees, then switches to Japanese. “Things keep….”

“Leaking over?” Merlin supplies.

Arthur nods before putting on an expression of mock seriousness. “It’s obviously all your fault.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not an idiot,” Merlin retorts. It’s easy, this banter. Comfortable.

—

_When Merlin was five, he used to tell his parents it was raining. He’d run outside on tiny feet on the driest day of the year and scream with joy as he watched imaginary raindrops and jumped in puddles that weren’t there. His parents thought it was just a game Merlin liked to play._

—

Arthur feels turned on and he’s not sure why. He shut the blinds and is halfway through a fervent wank when he’s suddenly in Merlin’s apartment lying on blue sheets and watching Merlin’s hand slide up and down Merlin’s stiff red cock.

Arthur’s been dreaming about this since he was 14, but they’ve always been good about privacy. Things are changing now, though. He can’t control it, he can’t—

“Sorry,” Arthur says as soon as he can speak. He pushes away, goes back to London, shuts his eyes tightly and goes to take a cold shower.

He’s just turned on the water when he hears Merlin say, quietly, “You can stay, if you want.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asks.

“You can stay,” Merlin says, “and watch.”

And Arthur’s back in Osaka, feeling Merlin touching his cock as clearly as if it was Arthur’s own. He can feel Merlin’s pulse quicken, feel the sweat on his brown, feel him wet his lips. He can’t stop looking, can’t look away.

Arthur turns the water off.

—

“I was imagining it was me touching you,” Arthur confesses later. Merlin nods, like he’d been expecting it.

“Good,” he says, “because I was imagining touching you.”

“I wish you could.”

“Hm?”

“Touch me.”

Merlin smiles a little. “Why don’t you come over here and let me?”

—

“Where are _you_ going?” Morgana asks, gesturing towards his packed suitcase.

He grins, feeling giddy as he says, “I’m going to Japan.”

* * *

**9.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None

Arthur's muscles were on fire. He lifted the weights again and again, increasing the speed and power behind his movements.

_The collective intake of breath from the crowd had drowned out the crescendo of the music. That, rather than the wind being knocked out of him, had told him that he'd ended his quadruple toe-loop on his buttocks. He'd gotten up lightening-quick, but the damage was done._

He heard a distant thud, a door falling shut. He got up in an instant, switching the apparatus back into neutral. His heartbeat quickened. None of the figure skaters would come to the gym the night of the long program. They were out enjoying the mid-season reprieve. His father or his coach would know better than to look for him tonight. Not when he'd lost. He'd be left to sulk in peace. 

"I knew I'd find you here." Merlin came into Arthur's line of sight, smiling. It wasn't smug or gloating, it was the friendly, familiar smile that always seemed to get under Arthur's skin. "You must be sore from that fall." His rival still didn't sound vindictive about having won the European championships over Arthur. Instead, there was a hungry look in his eyes, "Let me see." 

Arthur let out an involuntary moan at the soft command. Keeping his eyes locked on Merlin's gaze, Arthur got up from the weight machine, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his training tights and pulling them down in one swift movement, at the same time getting rid of his boxers and sneakers. His cock was already showing interest in the proceedings but it was his arse Merlin wanted to see. He turned around, slowly leaning forward, arms reaching to brace himself against the wall.

_To the victor go the spoils._

He heard Merlin slowly inch closer and the speed of Arthur's heartbeat increased even further in anticipation. 

A cool hand reached out to touch the sore skin that by now had to be looking dark blue from hitting the unforgiving ice earlier. But the hand remained gentle, fingers only mildly pressing into the bruises.

"Do it." Arthur grunted.

Though Arthur had been braced for it, the harsh smack to his arse still sent shockwaves down his body. Another one followed instantly, and another. At first the stinging pain drowned out any feelings of arousal but as the rhythm of the slaps picked up in speed and his cock was pushed against the hard and cold surface of the wall, it twitched in response. 

Arthur's moans coincided with the _slap, slap, slap_ , his body slowly being drained from the pent-up energy that came from competing. 

Suddenly Merlin stopped and Arthur was left with nothing but the burning ache.  
A moment later, Merlin's tongue gently lapping against his inflamed arsecheeks was almost too much to bear. But after only a few seconds it started to feel cool and soothing. 

Every inch of the red-hot skin was being kissed and licked. Arthur spread his legs a little, hoping the invitation was clear. He let out a sigh of relief when Merlin's long finger entered him swift and deep, first one, and then another one fucking in and out of him. "More," he demanded breathlessly. A third finger entered him, followed by another quick slap to his buttocks. "Please..." Arthur wasn't used to hearing himself beg, but he needed this, Merlin fucking him with his fingers while at the same time hurting him, reminding him of how sore he was - how sore he deserved to be.

Merlin did just that. Fingers fucking Arthur deep and hard, Merlin's other hand hitting him again and again, creating that addictive combination of pleasure and pain that made Arthur feel alive. It didn't take long for Arthur to reach his climax, screaming both curses and endearments alike.

In the blissed-out moment that followed, he felt Merlin rutting against him through the layers of polyester. The idiot was still wearing his bloody costume. _He's going to get sparkles all over me_ , Arthur thought, damn if his cock didn't try to come back to life at that.

They were drowsing off together afterwards, satiated and lying fully naked on the wooden floor, Merlin's _Firebird_ costume a rumpled heap beside them. 

"There's always worlds." Merlin suggested. 

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur muttered. Though they both knew he most definitely was up for a rematch.

* * *

**10.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None

His eyes are closed as he strokes his cock to hardness, eager to get the hell out of the room that smells of disinfectant and reminds him just how ridiculous the notion of selling his sperm is. He feels a tight pinch against his right shoulder and his eyes fly open to see an assemblage of doctors around him and Arthur struggles as an oxygen mask is forced over his face. Whatever he's inhaling is making his limbs feel heavy and slow as he desperately tries to question the manhandling doctors. The doctors ignore him and strip him and he feels like he's floating. He overhears one confirm that he's "the Recurrence" and another order the rest to kill him.

Suddenly, a man is crashing through the clinic room's wall and shooting at the the doctors who have turned into little grey creatures and Arthur knows that he's truly lost his damn mind. The man smiles at Arthur and Arthur has just enough time to notice that the man is handsome and his eyes flash from blue to gold before he's being pulled onto what can only be described as a hoverboard and is clutching onto the man for dear life as they fly through the wrecked walls and out into the city. They're being chased and shot at by some sort of spacecraft and Arthur thinks it's perfectly reasonable that he passes out at some point.

\--

When he wakes, he's in an unfamiliar bed and newly clothed. He sits up groggily and looks across the room. The man from what he assumed was some bizarre nightmare from getting pissed and passing out is sitting there at a table by the window calmly eating breakfast.

"What the actual fuck?" Arthur questions as he stalks over to the table.

"Sit and eat while I explain," the man says as he gestures to the second plate of food.

Arthur stares at the man for a minute, he's basically just been kidnapped but he's also been saved from apparent death and he's rather hungry so he sits down in the other chair heavily and starts to eat as he glares and waits for an explanation.

"My name is Merlin and I was hired to find you by the Royal Prince Mordred and bring you to him. I wasn't expecting to have to save you from near death, but I'm starting to think you're more important that I've been lead to believe," Merlin explains. "I-" Merlin stops abruptly and his eyes turn gold. He says something in a language that Arthur doesn't understand and stretches an arm out towards Arthur.

"Bloody hell," Arthur yells as a ball of energy shoots past his ear and shatters the window behind him. He turns around and there's another bloody spaceship behind him. Merlin grabs his hand and Arthur finds himself once again hanging onto Merlin for dear life on a hoverboard.

 

\--

"You've gotta be bloody kidding me," Arthur groans as he wakes up in yet another unfamiliar room wearing more clothes he hadn't placed on his own body.

"You look just like him," a beautiful woman tells him as he gets out of bed. "I'm Morgana of the royal house of Pendragon, and you must be Arthur, the Recurrence of my father Uther. Come, let me give you a tour."

\--

Morgana is stepping out of a pool of iridescent water looking decades younger than she had which was apparently 14,000 years old when a group of people crashed through the doors. Arthur is relieved to see Merlin among them and find out that the people Merlin is with are apparently space police.

\--

"So you're an alien?" Arthur asks a few days later when he's finally safe from his scheming royal family. He's requisitioned his own spaceship. Morgause's estate had reverted to him after her death since she was behind Arthur's first death as Uther. He's also inherited most of Mordred's estate as compensation from trying to be forced into entering a marriage union under false pretenses. He's in a unique position now to be able to stop the harvesting of further planets.

"I'm of a race that came before humans," Merlin responds. They are lying naked in Arthur's bed and Arthur can feel Merlin's morning erection against his thigh.

"And you're older than the sun," Arthur says. He shifts in Merlin's arms until Merlin's cock is resting against the cheeks of his ass.

"That depends on which sun you're referring to," Merlin replies. He palms Arthur's own cock and Arthur thinks he can get used to this new life.

* * *

**11.**

**Pairing(s):** Morgana/Gwaine  
**Warnings:** None.

It’s high noon when Gwaine strolls into the saloon. The familiar scent of sawdust and bourbon lingers in the air. 

By the time Gwaine reaches the bar, Percy has already poured him a glass of water – one brow raised, as though he’s certain today will be the day Gwaine cracks and orders a whiskey.

He slides into the empty stool beside Merlin and accepts the glass with a wide grin. 

“Say Emrys, have you seen Old Tibbs around? Bastard owes me my double eagles,” Gwaine asks without preliminaries.

Merlin winces. “Wouldn’t be surprised if Tibbs was halfway to Albuquerque right about now,” he says, taking a sip of his gin. “He got cleaned out – money and dignity in one run.” 

Gwaine curses. “’s that what the uproar is about?” he asks, glancing towards the back poker table. Merlin nods. “Well. Who’s the new chap then?” 

Merlin grins widely. “Morgana le Fay.”

***

Gwaine pushes his way through the crowd around the table until he’s standing in front of a young woman with raven hair. Her Stetson hat is tipped forward, and Gwaine can only see the cherry of her lips wrapped around a lit cigarette.

The clamor crowd dies down when Gwaine slams his glass down on the table in front of her. She looks up and pulls the cigarette from between her lips. 

“Something wrong, pretty boy?”

“Old Tibb owed me money.”

Morgana laughs and takes a sip of Gwaine’s glass. Her nose scrunches and she goes back to shuffling a deck of cards. “Sounds like a problem between you and Tibbs.”

“He took French leave because of you. And I want what’s mine,” Gwaine slams his fist on the table.

Morgana’s lips press into a thin line and she drags her gaze up to meet his. “Your drink of choice is Adam’s Ale. Your threats don’t mean a damn thing.”

Gwaine grits his teeth and pulls up a chair to straddle. “Deal,” he says.

Morgana raises a brow and Gwaine taps his fingers against the table. “Come on, then. We’ll play for it. If you win, I’ll consider the debt settled. If I win, you pay up, and –“

“And nothing. You’ll have your money.”

“I deserve something for my troubles.”

She scoffs. “What do you want?”

Gwaine licks his lips. “Does it matter? I’m not going to win anyway, am I?”

Morgana leans back in her seat and gives him an appraising look. He smirks. 

She deals.

***

The third time Morgana bites her lower lip, Gwaine is able to ignore his growing arousal and realize the action for what it is: a tell.

***

Gwaine kisses down Morgana’s neck, his hands pressing her waist into the mattress when she arches up against him.

“You have the most incredible breasts,” he says, and sucks a pert nipple into his mouth. 

She moans and grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging on it roughly. Gwaine moves to press kisses between her breasts, and licks a stripe down to her navel.

“I let you win,” she breathes out, apropos of nothing.

“Hmm?” Gwaine hums distractedly, then, “What?” He looks up at her. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes. I did,” she insists.

Gwaine narrows his eyes and Morgana drags him up for a heady kiss. She licks into his mouth – wet and hot, and Gwaine groans against her lips. Morgana pulls away and locks eyes with him -- she bites her lower lip. Gwaine curses.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because,” she says, pushing him onto his back. “Now you owe me. And I want to sit on your face.”

Gwaine’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Um, yeah, all right,” he mutters.

Morgana gives him a wicked grin, her lipstick now smeared obscenely across her mouth. She crawls up his body and lifts her skirt, rests her knees on either side of his head.

“You’re not wearing any – _Christ_ ,” Gwaine remarks dumbly, his words muffled by the cotton. He grabs her hips to pull her against his face and licks into her with the tip of his tongue. “And so wet for me.”

“Oh, _oh_ ,” Morgana moans, gripping the headboard and rocking against his face.

Gwaine slides a hand beneath her skirt to grab her ass. He moves his tongue tantalizingly over her clit until she’s writhing against him, her breaths coming out in heavy pants. 

Morgana comes with a shudder and loud cry. She slides down and gives him a filthy kiss, rubs her thigh against the bulge in his trousers. “Didn’t need to fool you, did I?”

* * *

**12.**

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** underage (17), age-difference, spanking (non-consensual... at first) 

''I'm not going with you!''

Arthur sighs, but doesn't turn around. Just keeps checking his tack. He picks up his gloves and pulls them on, then swings himself into the saddle.

The kid is still standing in front of the house, fists clenched at his sides. He's gangly like a colt, with a scrawny neck and dark hair too short to cover his ears. But his scowl is impressive.

Arthur picks up the reins and nods at the mare to his left. ''Get on that horse, or I swear I'll strap you to the saddle all the way to California.''

\---

''My father didn't want me seventeen years ago. Why would he come looking for me now?''

Merlin's eyes are burning with anger and resentment in the light of the campfire. The dancing shadows emphasize his sharp cheekbones and that obscene mouth that Arthur refuses to think about.

''I'm just your escort,'' he says, spooning up his beans.

\---

When they settle down to sleep, Arthur closes his eyes and waits. Soon there's the rustling sound of someone carefully getting up from their bedroll. The kid is bloody predictable.

''Where do you think you're going?'' Arthur asks calmly, and Merlin takes off straight into the treeline. 

Arthur curses. He follows, but it's dark and Merlin is quick. Dawn is approaching before he finds him. 

“I don’t need a keeper!’’ Merlin snarls, shivering from the cold. ''I can take care of myself!''

Arthur doesn't even dignify that with a response.

\---

When Merlin chases their horses off two days later, Arthur finally has enough.

"Is this what you want?" he growls, pushing the kid over his lap and pulling down the woollen trousers to expose Merlin's butt. "For me to _make_ you behave?"

Not waiting for an answer, Arthur brings his hand down on Merlin's pale cheeks with a resounding smack. 

''Let me go! You can't--'' 

Merlin is clawing at Arthur, bucking his hip as he tries to wriggle away, but Arthur holds him firm and keeps up a steady rhythm - not brutal but making it sting - until that ivory skin is red and hot. After a little while, Merlin stops struggling. He makes little keening noises now, soft and forlorn, his face buried in the crook of his arm as he rocks himself against Arthur's thigh.

Arthur stills.

Merlin's prick is hard as a nail.

His ears, on the other hand, are the bright colour of mortification. 

Hesitantly, Arthur reaches out and pets that raven hair. 

''Ssshh,'' he murmurs. ''It's fine. Just... just don't do it again.'' 

He gently rubs over Merlin's abused flesh, and the kid's breath catches when Arthur's fingers trace the cleft between his cheeks, a hot, damp trail leading to temptation.

''Have you been had before?'' Arthur asks quietly, and Merlin shoots him a confused, tear-stained look. Arthur pushes his finger down further, touches the clench of Merlin's hole. ''Here,'' he clarifies.

Merlin's eyes widen. He shakes his head, but tentatively pushes back after a moment.

Arthur sucks in a sharp breath.

''Yeah?'' he whispers. Merlin bites his lip. Then he nods.

Arthur wets his fingers, makes it two, and then returns them to the boy's virgin hole.

There's resistance at first, but it doesn't take long and Merlin is riding those fingers with shocked little moans. Arthur pushes in another. Merlin whines, the sound muffled, and Arthur sees that he has his thumb in his mouth up to the first knuckle, sucking frantically with his eyes closed.

''Fuck,'' Arthur groans. ''You little minx.''

There is no way he can stop this now. He eases Merlin to the ground. The kid's arms are curled under him and his arse is raised, legs spread as if he's begging. He keeps sucking his thumb.

''You're doing good,'' Arthur murmurs, kissing Merlin's neck as he lines himself up. ''So good. Know you can take it. I'll fill you up. Make a man out of you.''

Merlin is panting now, shaking with nerves and anticipation while pressing back, needy for it. Arthur takes hold of one bony hip and starts pushing in, stretching that tight ring of Merlin's virgin hole. 

''God, you're perfect. Taking my cock like this. Such a good boy.''

Merlin sobs into his fist.

''So good for Daddy.''

Merlin mewls and clenches around him as he comes.

\---

''Where will we go now?'' Merlin asks, nuzzling into Arthur's shoulder.

''You know where.'' 

''Mhmmm...'' Merlin stretches lazily. ''It's a long way to California. I'm sure I can change your mind."

* * *

**13.**

**Pairing(s):** Freya/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None

 

Freya drifts. She looks up through the clear water, faintly green as glass. There's sun and air up there, but the lake is her element now. She has been transformed. 

At the core she hasn't changed, though. Her mind is filled with dreams and yearning. She moves through the water to the rhythm of desires she barely understands. 

The lake teems with magical life, - water sprites, foam spirits, and merfolk. And of course there are the Sidhe, flitting across the water like brilliant points of light. 

But Freya herself is one-of-a-kind. 

Her loneliness turns her into a keen observer of the lake's other supernatural beings. She soon learns that sex fuels their magic. The sprites frolic around her, rubbing up against each other, their translucent skin flushing with heat when they copulate. And the Sidhe are insatiable. Tiny bodies always seem to be undulating in the air, couples and groups twisting into knots of pleasure. Their frequent orgasms flicker across the lake with an eerie blue luminescence. 

Freya watches them all with increasing hunger. She longs for her beloved, but he is far away.

-x-x-x-

They finally meet again when Merlin comes to take Excalibur from her hand. After that he continues visiting her now and then. He sits on the shore, speaking as tenderly to her as if she still were the pretty girl he once knew.

She craves much more than talk. Her desire grows strong enough to stir the lake, its crested waves breaking across Merlin's bare feet. 

“Come join me in the water, I want you. I need you,” she pleads. 

There's sadness in Merlin's eyes as he shakes his head. But he dips his toes into the lake. She suckles each one, pinching his ankles with frantic fingers.

She can touch _him_ , for her unique powers allow her to reach through to the human world, but Merlin cannot reciprocate. The one time he reaches down to hug her, his hands pass right through her as if she's no more than the water that surrounds her. He can never hold her, never actively give her pleasure. 

She keens in frustration and claws at his knees.

“Freya, I'm sorry,” he sighs, and she barely hears his voice through the storm that fills her mind. “I cannot join you. If I give myself completely, I will drown. But we can do this - “ 

There is a rocky outcropping a foot below the surface. Merlin undresses and slides into the lake, sitting down on that ledge. His head remains above water, but Freya has the rest of him. 

She plunges forward to grab his hips. Her lips close around his dick. It's a new and very satisfying sensation that gets even better when she feels his erection growing, filling her mouth. Pulling back, she holds his hard cock in her small hand and laps at the tip like a kitten licking cream. She joyfully swallows every drop when he comes. The milky fluid mingles with the lake water that is her essence. 

Freya somersaults three times backwards in delight, just like a mermaid dancing in the deep.

"I love you," she tells him.

Merlin looks troubled when he climbs out of the water.

-x-x-x-

Freya is back to watching the sex life of the Sidhe and the sprites. Filled with longing and envy, she is waiting, always waiting. Her hunger intensifies. She yearns for Merlin with a young woman's romantic heart, but a mature sorceress' appetite.

When Merlin returns to the ledge in the water at last, she licks him from the chest down and rubs herself raw on his cock. The tangled strands of her long hair surge like seaweed around him.

One time she stretches out, resting her head on the ledge when he sits down. A strong undertow tugs at his splayed legs and her whole body while his arse presses firmly down on her, his scrotum rubbing against her lips and tongue. The stimulation makes her face tingle. She's ablaze with the glory of it, although she soon longs for more. She needs all of him, always.

-x-x-x-

Everything changes when the king dies. Merlin wants to be faithful to Arthur's memory.

He visits her one last time. Kneeling down on the shore, he ducks his head under water, holding his breath until Freya reluctantly rises to press her cold, cold lips to his. 

The only kiss the Lady of the Lake ever takes from her lover says good-bye.


	2. Chapter 2

**14.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** none

 

Merlin dreams.

He knows he’s dreaming because Arthur’s here, lying next to Merlin on the grass, propped on his elbow, blond fringe falling into his eyes. Merlin wants to reach out and brush the locks away, but he’s afraid to stir and lose the dream.

Arthur smiles at Merlin and then leans over; his rough hand cups Merlin’s cheek and brings them closer. Their lips almost touch. Arthur’s breath is warm on Merlin’s skin, redolent of pine trees and horses, as if he’s just returned from a patrol in the forest. And Merlin _prays_.

He hasn’t prayed in years, eons really, but now he does, wishing for the dream to linger on.

“Open your eyes, Merlin,” Arthur says, and Merlin does so reluctantly, because all this is going to vanish as soon as his lids open. He’ll be in the cave again, where he’s been since he could no longer walk the earth, too tired from waiting nearly two thousand years for Arthur to return.

“Aren’t you a lazy princess,” Arthur says.

“I was asleep,” Merlin says. He isn’t sure he’s awake now.

“And not the sharpest tool in the shed either.” Arthur laughs, throwing his head back. He looks so carefree, so young, like when they first met. Or maybe not. Maybe like when they drank from the chalice.

Around them trees hum in the warm wind. The grass underneath their bodies is thick and soft. Arthur’s hand snakes down, and his fingers caress the strip of Merlin’s skin visible between breeches and tunic. Merlin sucks in his breath. This is not something they should pursue. But Arthur’s hand dips lower, underneath the fabric, and soon it’s covering Merlin’s cock—hard and stirring now.

When Arthur leans over Merlin, rubbing their hard cocks together, Merlin squirms. Arthur’s muscular body smells sweet, burns hot, and Merlin’s never wanted anything as much as he wants this: Arthur’s lips on his, Arthur’s hands clasped tight around his wrists as he grinds against Merlin.

“Take this off,” Arthur orders regally, expecting to be obeyed. He bends Merlin’s naked legs, pushing them up and up until Merlin’s almost curled in a ball.

“What are you doing?” Merlin asks, but all sound is lost when Arthur’s tongue—wet, hot, insistent—laps over Merlin’s hole. And once Merlin’s _dripping_ , Arthur lines up his cock and thrusts in, once, twice, and again. Merlin whines, writhes, and almost sobs, begging the gods until they’re both spilling—Arthur pulsing deep into Merlin’s hole and Merlin hot and milky between them.

 

Arthur’s kisses Merlin, squeezes his arm. “I love you,” he says, his lips brushing the delicate skin behind Merlin’s ear.

There’s something in the way he says it, something in the way the trees sway, something in the way Arthur’s eyes gleam with white light when Merlin pulls back that makes Merlin doubt.

He gasps. “Who are you?”

“I’m Arthur.”

But Merlin knows better.

“No,” he says. “No. You’re not him. What magic is this?” He jerks back. He stumbles over the pile of discarded clothes, legs getting tangled in the shirts as he tries to back away.

Arthur’s face is perfectly still, beautiful when he smiles, beautiful when he looks confused, like he does now. He reaches out.

“Don’t touch me!” Merlin shouts. He screams until his throat is raw, and all around him the vision of the forest and grass fades, leaving only pure white. This time he prays to wake up.

A voice booms out of the white mist. “We’re sorry,” it intones. “We assumed. Is this not what you craved?”

Merlin looks down where his tears fall one by one, drops bouncing off the swirling white. “Where am I? Who are you?” He must be dreaming. He’s always dreaming these days.

“We’re… new. Your kind doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve been asleep for over ten thousand years. Our probe detected you among the crystals in the mountains. We saw Arthur in your dreams and created him for you. Does it not make you happy?”

Merlin is going insane. He’s been dreaming too long. He clutches his head, tearing at his hair. _This_ cannot be. He remembers being tired, so tired, and falling asleep, but if this is reality he wishes he’d never woken up. He starts running, but all around there’s only white.

He stops when a cliff materializes in front of him. Black ocean roars beneath his feet. He closes his eyes and takes a step forward.

He doesn’t wake up.

Merlin dreams.

* * *

**15.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** Dubcon, praise kink, age difference (18/older), pining, unsafe workout practices.

 

The gym is cool despite the heat wave outside. That is one of the reasons Merlin’s here. Another, of course, is to try to bulk up a bit before uni this autumn so he won’t look like a newborn calf that’s just been let into a big green pasture and doesn’t know what to do with itself. 

But the biggest reason is the guy running the gym – Arthur. Fit like a greek god, Merlin can’t help watching him. Sneakily, of course, he’s not an idiot. He realises Arthur is fit enough to kill him with his bare hands if he ever finds out.

Today, the gym is rather quiet. Only one more guy is there, and when he gets up, winks at Arthur and leaves, Merlin feels the need to maybe start pumping the chest press a bit harder, just in case Arthur notices he’s mostly staring at him instead of working out. Trying to look cool, he accidentally pushes a bit too hard and makes the weights slam together with a loud clang. He blushes and adjusts his grip.

When he looks up, Arthur is standing right in front of him.

“Hey kid,” he says. “Want help?”

“Not a kid,” Merlin retorts before he can stop himself. “I’m 18.”

Arthur doesn’t reply, just watches him thoughtfully. The seconds drag on, and Merlin starts squirming slightly under the scrutiny.

After about half a minute, Arthur sits down on the machine opposite Merlin. “Go on,” he says, “I’ll watch. Give you pointers, if you need them.”

A bit offended and very embarrassed, Merlin starts pushing the bar forward, towards Arthur. It goes easily, because he always puts on too little weight in order to ogle Arthur instead of concentrating on lifting.

“You’re stronger than you might think.” Arthur stops him and adjusts the weights before gesturing for him to start over. “Do fifteen.”

This time, it takes some effort for Merlin to push the bar forward. He stops, holds it for a second, and then gently brings it back towards his chest. Again and again he does it, and Arthur keeps watching.

“Lift your elbows a little, otherwise you’ll won’t reach the right muscles. Yeah, like that!” he says approvingly when Merlin adjusts his position slightly. “Good man!”

The praise makes Merlin blush, and he can feel his cock getting interested. He tries to quickly finish the set so he can escape into the locker room, but the weights are almost too heavy now, and his arms are getting tired. At the thirteenth push, he’s panting with the effort, but still refuses to give up. He’s not a little boy.

Arthur watches him intently. “Come on, just two more. You’re doing so well. You’re strong, you can do it.”

It’s a miracle Merlin doesn’t whimper at that. Jesus!

When Merlin finally manages fifteen, Arthur rises and clamps a sweaty hand on his shoulder.

“You did so fucking well, man. Pushing yourself is all about the mental bit, you know that, right?” He hesitates. “Maybe there’s something I can do to motivate you to do better?”

Merlin stares at him. What...? Does he mean what Merlin thinks he means? He swallows hard.

“No, I’m fine,” he croaks, because he’s not brave enough to do anything about his fantasies. Not yet. Maybe never.

Arthur crouches down in front of him and puts his hands on his thighs. Merlin shifts nervously on the seat, heart pounding in his chest.

“So this... is just because of the adrenalin?” Arthur says and gently moves his hand to the bulge in Merlin’s shorts.

He’ll never admit it, but Merlin might have let out a whine at that. “No, yes, it’s not–”

But Arthur lifts his t-shirt up, pulls down his shorts and underpants and frees his hard cock. He’s even closer now, oh my god, what is he–

Merlin’s hands grip the bars of the machine tight, so tight, not to scream when Arthur wraps his hand around his erection and carefully starts stroking his length. It’s too dry, horribly awkward in more than one way, but also _so fucking hot_ because it’s Arthur, and Merlin doesn’t even last a minute before he shudders and comes.

Arthur looks pleased. “So pretty,” he says. “So strong. So damn good...” He wipes the jizz on his hand on Merlin’s shorts and scoots closer, still. He gently guides Merlin’s mouth to his and gives him a slow kiss. “Such a good boy.”

His body and mind exhausted, Merlin smiles weakly. “Yeah,” he says. “I am.”

* * *

**16.**

**Pairings:** Elena/Mithian  
**Warnings:** dub con (fuck or die)

It happens on some backwater planet Mithian won't even remember the name of, later. It was supposed to be a simple mission, recon, nothing complicated, but Mithian's barely back on the ship a standard hour before she realises she feels... weird.

She goes straight to medical.

"Yep," Merlin says, after he's looked her over, "we've got a straightforward fuck-or-die on our hands."

Mithian's heart sinks. She was really hoping her suit was reading her symptoms wrong. "Are you sure it's die," she asks carefully, "and not just be slightly inconvenienced for a while?"

"Afraid so," Merlin says, apologetic, and Mithian sighs. "Elena's your approved partner, right?"

Mithian nods. They joined the programme together, and they shared a bunk during training, and they've seen all the worst sides of each other. It just made sense.

"Here," Merlin says, giving her a small, unmarked box. "You're probably going to need this."

*

Elena answers straightaway when Mithian goes to knock on her cabin, and goes from pleased to see her to worried in about a second flat. Mithian's really, really glad she put Elena down when she was filling in the registration forms.

"Fuck-or-die," Mithian says, before Elena can ask. Mithian is flushed all over, and she can taste blood where she's been biting her lip to keep quiet. "Something on the planet. It hasn't been long."

"Good," Elena says, and steps aside to let her in. "What's the box for?"

"Merlin gave it to me," Mithian says, trying not to feel weirder than she already does. She's never been inside Elena's cabin before; they're not really designed for people to spend a lot of time in, but they sacrifice space for privacy, which is something Mithian is incredibly grateful for right now. "I haven't opened it yet."

"You went to see Merlin?"

"I had to be sure," Mithian says, and then has to take a deep breath because Elena has shut the door, come inside, and the space between them has vanished.

"Come on," Elena says, quiet, "let's get this done."

She puts a hand on Mithian's shoulder, and even through her suit, Mithian feels the sweet relief, the edge of not-quite-enough. Mithian nods. Elena steers her over to the bed, taking the box from her to open up.

"Vibrators," she says, shaking her head, "I think I'm insulted."

Mithian laughs, and then Mithian moans, because Elena is peeling off her suit and her skin is suddenly burning everywhere it is not being touched.

"Stop me if I do anything you don't like," Elena says, and then her head disappears between Mithian's legs.

Mithian comes under a minute later, shaking all over, and Elena looks smug until the shaking doesn't stop.

"Okay," she says, "I don't think I'm insulted any more."

She gets out a bullet-shaped vibrator from Merlin's box, presses it tight to Mithian's clit, doesn't take it away when Mithian comes. Mithian cries out, raw and sensitive, but still needing it, still nowhere close to release.

"I need," she says, and then just breathes out, heavy. Elena frowns, comes up to look down at her, their faces close, her body hovering above Mithian's. "Can you- on top of me. I need to feel you."

"I can do that," Elena says, lowering herself over Mithian, pressing Mithian down into the bed. It didn't feel good, before, beyond the base satisfaction, and Mithian doesn't know why this is different, doesn't want to wonder. 

The next time Mithian comes, she breathes out sweet relief, and Elena stops.

* * *

**17.**

**Pairing(s):** Emrys/Balinor  
**Warnings:** Alien sex!  
The pod burst from the escape hatch and was instantly lost in the surrounding space dust. Balinor switched to sensors and navigated to the nearest asteroid to wait. The UCS Ygraine swept by, leaving swirls and eddies of space junk in her wake. All Balinor could do was cling to the asteroid for shelter. 

The shaking lessened. Through the dust and static he saw the Ygraine disappear into warp, and he rushed to set his own course. The Ygraine would return when she realized the pod was gone, and he'd best be gone by-

“Who are you?” A voice asked.

Balinor whipped around. One hand checked his disguise- short red hair, good- and the other went to his sidearm.

“Show yourself,” he demanded.

A man stepped forward. Youngish, short black hair, blue eyes, and apparently stupid.

“Name,” Balinor asked.

“Emrys,” said the man. “You?”

“James,” Balinor said. “What're you doing on my ship?”

“What're you doing on mine?” Emrys retorted.

“I stole it.”

“I helped.” Balinor raised an eyebrow at that.

“Oh really?”

“They won't know we're gone for weeks,” Emrys said.

Balinor nodded. “You're an Extra, then.”

“That's why _I'm_ leaving. You?”

“Not your business,” Balinor said. He turned to the screens. “Got any place in mind, Emrys?”

“New Calypso.”

“Good enough.”

Balinor had known Extras before. United Camelot assured its citizens that Extras were contract workers, not slaves. Extras needed more structure to help them integrate into society. When one misbehaved, it was a tragedy caused by mental illness. The only cure was euthanasia. It was never an execution.

When Emrys worked his anklets off, it didn't look like punishment.

His eyes turned bright gold, so bright they actually glowed. He arched his back, gasped, moaned as his skin shimmered in the lights of the piloting display. When the man's skin stopped shining, he dropped to his knees.

“Great Goddess,” Emrys gasped. “It's been so long.”

Balinor couldn't help it. The man was Extra, and probably either ill or a criminal, and so, so beautiful. He knelt to kiss Emrys, and the man kissed him back with interest.

In moments they were nude on the metal floor, Emrys' skin alternating between humanoid and opalescent blue-green. Balinor had a moment's wonder of “how do I have sex with him?” before Emrys pushed his fingers into Balinor's mouth.

“Breathe through your nose,” was Emrys's only instruction before his eyes rolled back. “James, James, yes, James,” he said, as Balinor licked and sucked at his preternaturally long fingers. When those fingers hit the back of his throat and farther, Balinor could only wish Emrys knew his true name.

Balinor reached between Emrys's legs and found nothing, but the mouth that closed around his cock was human enough. He'd never done this with a man, never felt something in his mouth while getting his own cock sucked- it was overwhelming.

The fingers in his mouth changed shape, got longer and flatter. He felt them go down his throat and took a deep, shuddering breath through his nose. A mouth on his cock, a hand over his mouth, fingers deep in his throat, and he felt owned, taken, lost. He came and felt Emrys swallow it down, and waited for Emrys's hand to retreat.

It lingered, and Balinor coughed. He nearly gagged, but Emrys pet his back.

“Time, James, give me time.”

Emrys was still flushed, still hot with arousal, and his fingers still grew within Balinor's throat. Suddenly he felt a burst of cold in his gut. Colder and colder, until his stomach began to swell with it and Emrys's face showed ecstasy. When Emrys's fingers retreated, his hand releasing its hold over Balinor's mouth, Balinor felt fat and swollen. His fingertips had left a sour-sweet trail on his tongue, which he now passed through his mouth like a new kind of ale.

They got to New Calypso and didn't look back. Emrys was searching for something, and Balinor wanted to never be found. But when Balinor's first son looked more like Emrys than himself, he said nothing to his wife, and looked to the stars.

* * *

**18.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/ Arthur  
**Warnings:** Dub Con, Kidnapping

“You have the the wrong man! I’m no superhero! I haven’t done anything to anyone!” 

Arthur Pentley struggled against the restraints that bound him, his arms shackled above his head as his body hung strung up in the middle of an empty room, his feet barely touching the floor.

A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, his pertinent features hidden by an all encompassing hood.

“Please Arthur, I’m not an idiot,” Emrys stated drily.

“Camelot isn’t a huge town. Everyone knows that your Pendragon.”

Arthur glared at his nemesis and Merlin sighed exasperatedly.

“For fucks suck, you’re the only blonde in the village.”

Emrys approached Arthur’s prone body slowly; halting only when they were a hairsbreadth apart. Arthur’s unwavering silence the only thing between them.

“What I don’t understand,” Merlin continued with barely restrained frustration, “Is why you fight against the resistance.”

Arthur remained silent as Emrys placed his hand against his torso, tracing the muscles beneath his shirt before continuing upwards on its journey to test the shackles holding him captive. 

Merlin’s eyes flashed golden and as if by magic a pair of scissors rose from a nearby workbench floating across to their master as summoned. 

All at once Merlin felt the muscles in Arthur's’ body harden and tense.

Emrys tsked in disbelief.

“You have a magical blade that follows your every command and extraordinary strength and yet you’d still see those of us with powers locked away when you’re practically one of us yourself.”

“I’m not one of you,” Pendragon hissed.

Merlin started at the sound of Arthur's voice.

“The resistance hurts innocent people. I could never condone that”

Merlin turned away.

“Not all of us hurt people Arthur, and not all of those that get hurt are innocent,” Merlin grasped the hovering scissors, and turned back to face him, his hooded cloak concealing all of his features but his eyes.

“You could be the best of us, you know,” Merlin murmured as he brought the scissors up to Arthur's chest, carefully cutting a line up the center of Arthur's shirt revealing the muscles beneath. “You could lead the resistance, make us better than what we are.”

Emrys kissed the center of Arthur's solar plexus, the firm muscles clenching under his touch.

“We could leave Camelot,” Merlin trailed a line of kisses down his body to the top of Arthur's trousers. “We could go to Albion and help everyone who needs us; Normal and Super alike.”

Arthur groaned as Merlin unzipped his trousers palming the cock hidden beneath. Merlin leant forward and nuzzled at the bulge breathing in the smell of Arthur's arousal before mouthing at the head through his underwear.

When Arthur was fully erect Merlin pulled back to smile impishly at Pendragon only to be met by a glare.

“If this is your form of interrogation you should know that I’m not easily seduced,” Arthur said proudly, a small pout upon his lips.

Merlin laughed loudly.

“After I’m done worshipping your body you won’t remember your name much less anything else you’ve told me.”

Arthur watched warily as Emrys sat before him, his hands caressing Arthur's thighs as his lips trailed down his left leg nipping randomly along sections of his skin. 

Merlin smiled every time Arthur jumped at his playful bites but quickly grew wary of the game instead focusing on Arthur’s feet, suckling every toe individually into his mouth and swirling his tongue against them luxuriously. 

Arthur felt every suckle against them as if they were being laid upon his own cock, his arousal growing along with his determination not to show it.

Merlin released Arthur’s last toe with an audible pop, rising up to tweak Arthur's nipples and circling around to embrace Arthur from behind. Arthur remained still as he felt Emrys breath against his neck, his earlobe suckled against Merlin's plush lips.

“You can try all you like Merlin, but you won’t break me,” Arthur said, breath hitching as Merlin ground his erection against Arthur's arse.

He felt Merlin still in surprise and grinned victoriously.

“I guess I’m not the only one in the village with a shit disguise.”

A hand reached beneath his pants to squeeze him tight and Arthur bit back a moan at the contact.

Merlin let loose a deep chuckle, his eyes flashing golden.

“Perhaps, but we’ll see who wins out in the end.”

* * *

**19.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None

Arthur sidles up to Merlin in the mess hall, just as Merlin's getting his protein equivalent.

"You busy tonight?"

Merlin watches the protein equivalent splat down on his tray and cringes. "Not that I know of. Why?"

Arthur shifts his weight, and Merlin shoots him a side look. "What's up?"

Arthur takes a deep breath. "I have a Med App tomorrow. Can I come over?"

Merlin blinks at him. "Of course you can. I'm off after 21:00 hours."

Arthur nods tightly at him, then disappears. Merlin only shakes his head and grabs his tray. He only has so much time to eat before he has to get back to duty.

After his shift is over, Merlin can't help but dawdle in the hallway on his way to his room. The stars shining through the window are as bright as they always are, and the vast emptiness of pinpricks of light always fascinates Merlin.

Arthur's waiting by his door and straightens when Merlin walks up.

"How was work?" 

"Fine." Merlin unlocks his door and ushers Arthur in. Arthur almost immediately flops down on the bed, kicking off his shoes as he does. 

Merlin wrinkles his nose at him. "No, hello? No, good evening, dear?"

"Shut up," Arthur says, and unzips his pants, lifting his hips to wriggle out of them. 

Merlin rolls his eyes and grabs a few necessary items out of his side cabinet before settling on the bed near Arthur's feet.

Arthur's soon naked from the waist down, and he flips on his belly, making Merlin's mouth go dry at the display of his muscled thighs and ass.

"How long has it been?" Merlin asks as he runs his fingers over Arthur's thighs. They're tense, so he massages them for a bit before creeping upwards.

Arthur sighs. "Three weeks or so? It's- whatever."

Merlin grabs the lube nestled in the covers and squeezes out a generous amount to warm in his palm. "No judgment. Just tell me when."

Arthur blows out a breath, slow. "Just do it."

Merlin answers by tracing a finger around Arthur's hole. He's tense here too, so Merlin takes his time gentle pressing, rubbing, before slipping inside.

It punches a groan out of Arthur, muffled a little in Merlin's pillow, so Merlin runs a hand over the small of his back, comforting.

It doesn't take long for Arthur to relax, though, used to this, and Merlin can soon move around, aiming right for-

Arthur chokes off a gasp, and Merlin grins, massaging with his finger as Arthur's hips start to shudder. He slips in another finger to add to the first and Arthur's hiss of breath is loud between them.

Arthur's prostate feels heavy under his two fingers, so he rubs at it carefully, pressing rhythmically with the sensitive pads. He knows Arthur likes it, but even more, he needs it.

"Shhh," Merlin soothes as Arthur whimpers, further buried in the pillow now. "Shouldn't be long now."

Arthur can't stop moving under Merlin's hands, but Merlin doesn't let up, slipping in a third finger to press up unrelentingly against Arthur's prostate.

Arthur gives a choked off cry as his hips jerk and rut him frantically into the mattress, and he groans as Merlin keeps up the steady, measured pressure, until Arthur's sensitive and moaning with it, until he's relaxed and boneless on the bed and surely laying in his own enormous wet spot.

Merlin withdraws, carefully, and wipes off his fingers on a tissue. His own erection aches, but he'll take care of it later.

"Did you have to ruin my bed again?"

"I'll do your laundry later," comes Arthur's voice, muffled from the pillow. "Thanks."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Someday you'll have to learn how to do this yourself. Medical Appointments don't just stop because I've been assigned to a different ship."

Arthur lifts his head and glares at him. "Like I'd let you be assigned somewhere else," he scoffs.

Merlin huffs, but goes to wash his hands and give Arthur some privacy. Also to press a hand into his cock and convince it to stand down. Once he's returned from the little ensuite, Arthur's buckling his belt and smoothing his hair.

Arthur clears his throat. "Thank you for your work Ensign Emrys."

Merlin rolls his eyes for the fifth time in a half hour. "Anytime Commander Pendragon."

* * *

**20.**

**Pairing(s):** Gwaine/Cenred  
**Warnings:** Dubcon, accidental kidnapping, implied voyeurism

“In short,”–Elyan purses his lips–“we kidnapped Cenred from his own men, but he was hit by a spell and unless someone is physically intimate with him, he’ll die. Wonderful.”  
“That’s King Cenred,” Cenred purrs, and licks his lips. A shudder runs down Gwaine’s back. He shifts his gaze to Arthur’s clenched jaw; knows instinctively what Arthur is thinking, and it pains him.  
“I’ll do him,” Gwaine announces, and pushes himself up and on his legs.  
***  
“You did not protest. I take you’re satisfied with me?” Gwaine asks while unlacing the winding strings on Cenred’s top. He feels raw and exposed despite his dominant position.  
“Oh, you’ll do me great justice.” Cenred agrees. His breathing is more labored now; cheeks flushed and eyes big and black this close. Sweat rolls down his face and neck, yet its smell makes Gwaine lick his lips and salivate. His blood quickens and he shivers in anticipation.  
“You’re not terribly fond of this shirt, I hope,” he teases and rips the soft material apart before Cenred has any chance to respond.  
Cenred’s torso is gorgeous: his chest is sculpted and his ribs ripple under his skin, but he has a soft belly and Gwaine wants for naught but to run his palm over it on its way to other places. He wants to take his time, but the urgency of the situation imposes a quick, shameless rut, and he regrets it a bit.  
He dispenses of their clothes as quick as possible. Cenred moans and moves in cooperation with evident enthusiasm. The noises he makes drive Gwaine nearly deranged; he straddles Cenred and finally, finally their flesh is touching, their cocks are pressed between the heat and their bellies. Gwaine can’t recognize himself.  
Cenred rubs his inner thighs in Gwaine’s hips and tries to rock him back and forth. “Just do it already,” he babbles, “Don’t bother fingering.”

Gwaine grunts, but obeys. There is something uncanny about skipping preparation; he lubes them both and guides his cock in. Cenred is tight around him, even painfully so; his moans become whimpers and high-pitched noises. His muscles quiver around Gwaine and fuel his impatience. Feels like years before he’s finally all the way in, but when he is it’s bliss. Cenred is a bliss.  
They both groan and whimper, oblivious to the surrounding knights. Gwaine plants his palms on the sides of Cenred’s head and changes his angle so he can rest his forehead against Cenred’s. The king whines in response and Gwaine thinks he can feel the flutter of his lashes. He adjusts his pose again and thrusts, and is rewarded with a loud, shameless moan.  
Another thrust and Cenred tightens up once more, but after he relaxes the clench is almost bearable, and Gwaine finds them a rhythm of small and steady thrusting, hitting that special place within Cenred.  
The latter doesn’t need much to come. He coats his torso in thick whitish strips, the tip of his cock smearing them over his navel. His twitching body, the clenched ass, the tears rolling down his cheeks, it’s too much for Gwaine. His legs protest and shake but he thrusts and thrusts; milks himself completely into Cenred, and the wrecking tides of his own orgasm make him grunt. He has never felt such animalistic satisfaction over filling his mate.  
And then, sudden like a wake-up, something snaps in him. His body is sate and sore with pleasure, but his mind is clear, and he’s able to inspect his own emotions. Cenred does not unlock his legs, does not let him go; Gwaine is in no hurry to detach himself either. They look into each other’s eyes and Gwaine is relieved he’s not the only one free of regret and humiliation as the effects of the spell are wearing off.  
He shifts his weight and brings his palm to Cenred’s side to stroke the king’s lower lip with his thumb. “Consequences will be awkward, I reckon,” he mutters.  
Cenred doesn’t break eye contact. His tongue snakes out and gives Gwaine’s thumb a good long lick, then darts back in, and he laughs.

* * *

**21.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None  
_On the planet of Myth, in a time of no magic… the destiny of the universe rested on the shoulders of a young man. His name was M’Riss._

Only when the holy consort C’LotPol was found, and made one with M’Riss, would magic return.

As the holy consort would basically rule the universe, as well as getting to have lots of hot sex with M’Riss, there was intense competition for the position. Emperor Kilgharrah, wary of imposters seducing his heir, ordered protection.

Captain Arthur Pendragon of the Camelot Space Corps, _Hot_ magazine Rear of the Year winner and universally renowned for saving the galaxy twice already, had been assigned. 

It was guard duty, and somewhat beneath Arthur’s dignity. But the sacred M’Riss had turned out to be not only pure of body but also young, hot, and with cheekbones to die for. Arthur had no intention of dying, but he appreciated why they’d be considered a universal treasure. And at least M’Riss was sitting down, so no threat to Arthur’s title.

M’Riss sat on a big gold throne. He wore a skimpy gold loincloth and not a lot else, meditating silently on important spiritual matters. Pilgrims constantly visited to admire him.

As there wasn’t a lot else to do, Arthur spent a lot of time admiring him as well. Mostly Arthur admired the flimsy loincloth and fantasised about going where no-one had gone before. 

Sometimes, M’Riss stopped meditating and looked around. The pilgrims sighed adoringly. Arthur rolled his eyes. M’Riss frowned at him. He never spoke because that was forbidden, but the disapproval was obvious.

M’Riss was an ungrateful dick. In a skimpy gold costume. With cheekbones. And very blue eyes. Not that Arthur was noticing at all.

Every day, High Priest Gaius would stand in front of M’Riss and make some nonsensical proclamation about the future. Arthur rolled his eyes at that too.

“The Holy Consort will be coming soon,” Gaius announced one day.

“Thank fuck!” Arthur muttered, because that meant the end of guard duty and the start of exciting universe-saving, which was far more Arthur’s thing.

M’Riss gazed at Arthur, because he always did.

****************

 

Two days later William of Ealdor and his men stormed the temple. Ridiculously, they were all holding plants.

“The aithusa flower!” Lancelot yelled, as a bloom was shoved in Gwaine’s face. “Run!”

Gwaine didn’t run but snogged Lancelot instead.

Arthur stood firm in front of M’Riss, taking out his weapon and firing at Will (and his men). Still they kept coming, flinging the flowers at M’Riss. Arthur brushed the sickly sweet-smelling blooms aside. 

Lancelot and Gwaine were busy shagging, so Arthur heroically drove out the intruders single-handedly and sealed the door.

M’Riss was watching him. Arthur desperately wanted to bend him over that throne and fuck him senseless. 

“Gwen,” he said into his intercom. “We’ve been breached. I need backup. And what’s an aithusa flower?”

Gwen told him. “Did you inhale the sex pollen?” she asked 

Arthur had intercepted all the flowers meant for M’Riss. He was covered in pollen.

“Um... no,” he lied. 

“Back up arrives in an hour,” Gwen promised.

An hour. Unfortunately, the aithusa flower made you so hungry for sex that you’d die within 30 minutes if you didn’t mate. And the only other person in the room was the sacred M’Riss, whose virginity Arthur was sworn to protect. M’Riss, who was walking down the steps from the throne towards Arthur.

“Oh fuck!” muttered Arthur. The gold loincloth was even skimpier when M’Riss stood erect.

M’Riss nodded eagerly, and knelt on the divine stone of claiming, presenting.

Arthur had never failed a mission. However, the virginal hole was right there on offer, mysteriously wet and prepared. Arthur didn’t particularly want to die of sex pollen desperation so he deflowered the sacred arse, thrusting his way to a noisy completion. M’Riss frantically worked his own cock, spilling over the temple floor.

There was a magical flash of gold through the room.

“Thank fuck for that!” M’Riss panted. “What kind of bloody thick consort are you?”

“What?” Apparently the sacred M’Riss was a potty mouth. Who knew?

“I’ve been giving you the come-on for weeks. I couldn’t talk, just give you looks. And wear this draughty thing!”

“I was supposed to guard you.”

“You were supposed to _rescue_ me! I had to email Will for help. I was bored to death! And cold! And horny! I’ve got the stupidest C’LotPol ever.”

Arthur thought he liked it better when M’Riss was silent.

* * *

**22.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warning(s):** Petplay/animal play, possible dubcon, degradation  
~~~  
_“Our team is gonna get slaughtered and it serves us right for making the scrawny farmer boy our goalie. If you manage to block any goals at all, I’ll come down to your daddy’s farm and play Old McDonald with you. How’s that sound?”_

Emrys was waiting in the stall, dressed in jeans, a pale blue shirt, and a pair of black harness boots, slightly muddy. He looked for formidable here than he did in the halls of their school.

‘Are you ready to play with the farmer’s boy,’ Emrys asked, walking up to Arthur and meeting his gaze. Whatever this was, Arthur’s cock wanted it so he just nodded dumbly.

‘Good,’ Emrys said, slipping something red out of his pocket. ‘Why don’t you take off your clothes for me?’ Walking away, he seated himself on a short stool in the corner. 

Arthur stripped off his shirt and trainers first. The red thing Emrys held was hollow and flared at one end. Arthur decided it must be made of rubber because it flexed when Arthur dropped his jeans and Emrys’ fist clenched in response. 

‘Come here,’ Emrys said, motioning again for Arthur to stop when Arthur made to walk over. ‘What do piggies do, Arthur,’ Merlin asked, sounding almost innocent. Arthur flicked his gaze to the ground, dusty and covered in fresh hay. Hay that Emrys had put down for him. Arthur knew he could balk, walk away, and Emrys would never mention this again.

Or he could do what piggies do.

Arthur felt ungainly as he got down on all fours, uncertain in his limbs in a way he’d never felt before. The burn of desire in his gut was almost unbearable. The hay was soft against his knees and palms, and a grassy animal smell filled his nostrils. Arthur peered up at Emrys, who spread his knees in response. His smirk was apparent and Arthur lowered his gaze as he crawled slowly in between those thighs.

‘How is my piggy today,’ Emrys asked gently. Arthur’s face pressed into the warmth of Emrys’ crotch and he was nuzzling hungrily before he could stop himself. Leaning back, Emrys opened the fly of his jeans and pressed his hard cock into Arthur’s mouth. Emrys forced his cock farther down Arthur’s throat, fucking his mouth in deep, unhurried strokes. Arthur struggled to breathe, fabric clinging to his face. Emrys must have noticed because he paused to strip off his shirt. Arthur could feel thick drool running off his chin and Emrys’ fingers in the waistband of his briefs, sliding them down.

 

Arthur rocked back and forth, fucking his mouth onto Emrys’ cock, distracted. He spread his knees wider on the hay-covered floor, earning him a firm spank that made his hole clench. Flicking his tongue against the shaft of Emrys’ cock, Arthur grunted sharply at the sound and sensation of Emrys’ spitting on his arsehole and pressing a finger into him.

‘That’s my good piggy,’ Emrys cooed, spitting again and pressing another finger into Arthur, spreading them apart on every out stroke. Arthur continued fucking himself between Emrys’ cock and the fingers in his arse, drool puddling on the hay beneath them. Some rustling, the _snick_ of a bottle opening, and the sensation of slick sliding over his hole had Arthur arching his back. 

Emrys’ fingers slipped out of him, replaced by a firm pressure that had him whining. It must have been the red thing Emrys had been holding in his hand, the stretch noticeable but not painful. Emrys hushed him gently, never letting up on the pressure. They groaned in unison when the toy finally slipped past the tight ring of muscle to seat itself inside Arthur; Emrys groaning and cursing when Arthur tried to clench his hole around the toy and whined when he realized he couldn’t.

Pulling Arthur off his cock, Emrys shifted around so he could see what he had done. The toy forced Arthur’s hole open wide, his thighs straining as he fought not to close his. Without Emrys’ cock to distract him, the reality that Emrys was looking _inside_ of him—and that he was on the brink of orgasm from just that, was too much.

Arthur couldn’t feel it but he heard it when Emrys spit in his hole, and that pushed him over, tears springing to his eyes as he buried his face in the hay in shame-tinged lust and painted the hay in thick white stripes, the soft murmuring of his farmer boy in his ear.

* * *

**23.**  
**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** takes place circa the California Gold Rush

It all started on the train.

The Nevada desert didn’t offer much to look at, so Arthur had allowed the stranger across from him to bait him into a game of cards.

He took great pleasure in grounding the man into dust for the first three games, but rather than be put off by such crushing defeat, a wide, ridiculous grin broke out across his opponent’s face, and he was praised with the words, “Oh, you’re _good_.”

And that was it. That simple phrase sent shivers through Arthur and nearly left him short of breath. It was rare his efforts in anything were commended. His father didn’t believe in inflating anyone’s ego and that the end results were enough of a compliment.

The man proceeded then to up his game and prove he was a bit of a card shark, shamefully walking off the train with only five dollars in his pocket. 

“Ah, Arthur!” his father greeted at the station. “I want you to meet someone.”

Arthur found himself facing the man who now held the majority of his savings. 

“This is Merlin. He’s to be our banker.”

Pride wounded, Arthur would have happily lived out his days avoiding Merlin, but that was a bit hard to do when his father was constantly sending him to the bank with sacks of gold to be measured out and exchanged.

What made it worth it was Merlin’s constant enthusiasm.

“And you just lugged this huge chunk out of the ground yourself? I would have broken my back just trying! All that strength! It must be to make up for your slight lack of brains.”

“That was a great haul last Tuesday. Gaius even plans on closing up shop in New York to go meet it on the docks, can you believe it? You guys are doing a great job out there!”

“Arthur? Wow. You look…wow. Uh…you clean up really well!”

Tonight there was a dinner party at the mayor’s, and with their new upstanding position in high society, the Pendragons had been invited.

Arthur hated the stuffy suit, but couldn’t help but preen under Merlin’s appreciative eye.

“I clean up well? That’s the best you have to offer me?”

Merlin’s pupils were blown wide as Arthur slowly approached.

“You look…edible,” Merlin breathed.

Arthur’s pants went from too tight to unbearable.

The rest of the night was torture. Arthur couldn’t look at Merlin without feeling like he was throbbing against his zipper, and every word that passed from his father’s lips seemed determined to cut down every ounce of praise Arthur had ever been given.

“Honestly, I send him to town and he disappears for half a day!”

“If he didn’t insist on keeping the loads so light to carry back, I’m sure we’d be making double what we are now.”

“I suppose. You should see his sister, though. Now _there’s_ a real beauty.”

“Arthur, stop drinking so much before you do something embarrassing.”

Unwilling to deal with anymore, Arthur took his shot of bourbon outside, only so stumble across a hiccupping Merlin.

“…What.”

Merlin glared. “I get the hiccups when I’ve had too much to drink. Don’t you dare laugh, it was already embarrassing enough in there as it is.”

Arthur thought it was adorable.

He rested his drink on the low brick wall and began stalking towards Merlin.

“What?” Merlin asked petulantly, stumbling back into the shadows of the house when Arthur failed to stop an acceptable distance away.

“ _Mer_ lin.” Arthur really enjoyed saying that name. “Tell me how good I am.”

“I hardly think your ego needs any more inflating—”

Arthur pinned him against the house’s wall. “Tell me how much you think about me.”

Merlin gasped as Arthur pressed their hips together.

“Oh! _Oh…_ You—you’re making it really hard for me to complete a sentence.”

Arthur’s hips continued to circle before he decided shoving his thigh between Merlin’s legs would feel much better. 

“ _God!_ Arthur! That’s—oh, that’s nice.”

Arthur’s hips began moving in a very distinct rhythm.

“I’m always thinking of you. Love watching when you bend over to pick up your sacks. Imaging how you could pin me down. How you would t-touch—” Merlin’s hips stuttered and he gripped at Arthur’s jacket. “I’ve never—this—I’m—” 

And then Merlin stiffened, and Arthur could feel his straining cock pulsing rapidly against his hipbone.

Arthur surged against him, licking down his neck as Merlin gasped for air before slumping.

“You’re good, Arthur,” Merlin murmured. “So good.”

White exploded through Arthur’s vision and the cry he let out was far too loud for where they were, but as rutting slowed, he found he couldn’t care. 

So long as Merlin continued to hold him in such high regard.

* * *

**24.**

**Pairing: Elyan/Vivian**  
**Warnings: N/A**

He was standing in front of the mirror with the fifty-pound dumbbells, and he looked like a douche shrugging and unshrugging his shoulders like that in his stupid gym shorts and gray muscle shirt, his dark skin visibly damp. Vivian had to squeeze in near him to get her twenty-pound weights, and he smelled like delicious sweaty man, and it was not _fair_.

She wasn’t sure what she was doing wrong. She worked out at the same time he did, organized her circuit in a way that always had them bumping into each other near the free weights, and her spandex game was on point, but it had been months, and Hottie-with-a-Body still hadn’t talked to her. She even tried leaving out her headphones a couple times, and nothing. The amount of thought she had put into this for the pathetic lack of payoff was frankly embarrassing.

Halfway through her second set of single-leg squats, Hottie-Body broke Vivan’s eye contact with herself in the mirror, his shirt soaked through and clinging to his body. She watched his plump, firm-looking ass as he walked over to his cubby and started changing into his street shoes. Vivian did a half-assed job on her last few squats and re-racked her weights, because she’d had just about enough of being ignored, and she wasn’t going to let him sneak out _again_.

“Are you gay?” Vivian said, trailing him out the door. He stopped on the sidewalk and turned to look at her.

“What?” HB’s voice, it turned out, was deep and smooth, and it irritated Vivian that a gay guy should become _more_ attractive to her and not less.

“I’m wondering if you’re gay,” Vivian said. “Because I’m hot as fuck, and it doesn’t seem like you’ve noticed.”

HB’s mouth opened and closed as he squinted down at her, and Vivian suddenly felt very short. Annoyed, she said, “Okay, but this really isn’t a hard question.”

“Let’s start again,” he said, and his lips were strained as though he was suppressing a smile. It was bothersome. “I’m Elyan.”

“Vivian. Gay?”

“Not gay,” Elyan said. “Not blind, either.”

“Then are you stupid? Because how have you not noti—”

It turned out he _had_ noticed. He noticed as he pushed his hands against her belly and backed her into the scratchy concrete wall, and he noticed when he sucked the sweat from her neck and licked her own taste back into her mouth. He noticed on the short walk back to her apartment with his hand stuck down the front of her pants as she fumbled with her keys.

Vivian felt tiny when Elyan picked her up by the ass and climbed onto the bed with her, lying on his back and settling her on top of him. Naturally, his gym shorts concealed nothing, and the hard press of his cock against her through her two thin layers of spandex was thoroughly distracting.

Elyan struggled with Vivian’s sports bra as she wriggled out of her skin-tight capris and panties, and they were both breathless and laughing by the time she was unclothed. Vivian shoved Elyan’s shirt up to his armpits, but his hands were insistent on her thighs, hauling her up to straddle his face.

“Noooo, I have to shower!” Vivian whined, trying to wiggle away, but Elyan’s strong grip held her firmly in place as he pressed his nose to her cunt and inhaled loudly.

“No, you don’t,” he said, which was all the invitation Vivian needed to climb fully onto his face and press against his mouth.

It had been a _very_ long time since she had gotten laid, and Elyan’s tongue felt like sweet, liquid fire, and she was probably a bit high on endorphins, and it all narrowed down to Vivian riding Elyan’s face rough and fast. She was vaguely aware of how one of Elyan’s hands had left her ass and the muscles in his shoulder twitched, and the noises he made while he licked and sucked at her were obscene and hot as fuck. When she came, she actually _screamed_ , like the demons of celibacy were being released.

Vivian sat back on Elyan’s chest, admiring how fucking hot he looked as he jerked himself off, slick lips parted and brow furrowed. He laughed through his orgasm, and it was one of the most goddamn charming things she’d ever seen.

Lying next to him in her sweaty bed, Vivian looked over at Elyan and said, “So not gay, then.”

“Not gay.”

* * *

**25.**

**Pairing(s):** Morgana/toy  
**Warnings:** None

The engines groan, and Morgana wants to groan with them. The shuttle pushes upward out of the atmosphere, rockets roaring. As she's pushed back into her seat by several Gs worth of pressure, the little piece of foam-covered plastic inside her cunt shifts, pressing in and up against her g-spot.

The vibrations as the first rocket pulls away leave her gasping and clutching at her seat. She wonders how she'll make it all the way out of the gravity well before coming.

Innocently, Vivian beside her tongues on her mic and asks, "Morgana? Is everything okay?"

Morgana bites back both a groan and the words 'I hate you'.

"Fine," she spits out, and resigns herself to another set of headlines talking about the rivalry between them.

Then she tongues off her mic so she can whimper aloud.

\--------

_1 week earlier_

"I have no idea why we're even discussing this. She'll never do it."

Vivian waves a hand casually at the reboot of Sex and the City playing in the background. The scene skips instantly past some guest star monologuing about his penis like it's relevant to the plot.

Vivian continues, "She's Morgana fucking Pendragon. She would never put a toe out of line, let alone do something that could get her scrapped from the active list."

"Tintagel, actually," Morgana corrects. "I kept my name when I was adopted, which you would know if you ever read anything but your own press." She pauses, let's the air get tight with expectation as curious, eager, and slightly wide-eyed faces turn toward her like flowers to the sun. "And I will win your stupid challenge."

"That's the spirit!" Elena grins, sloshing non-alcoholic beer on the floor as she cheers.

The new girl, Freya (fluid dynamics, Belfast undergrad, CalTech for her PhD), looks utterly scandalized and a little excited. "They don't do a body scan right before you board?"

"The day before," Morgana says. "And they check weight before boarding, but there's a 1-kilo allowance for normal daily variation."

"It will have to be small and plastic," Mithian says, tapping one fingernail to her lips. "Less than three ounces can be recycled through the 3D printer without raising alarms, if you don't want to bring it back down the same way."

Suddenly Gwen is smiling in that way that means danger. Morgana's pussy clenches.

"I have just the thing," Gwen says.

\--------

It's exactly as uncomfortable to walk around with a plastic ball clenched inside her cunt as it sounds.

She's briefed on last-minute changes (none important), suited (umph, bending over), weighed ("Drink a lot last night, Morgana?" "Very funny, Aparna." "Well, you're still within allowance, but try not to guzzle the sports drinks before takeoff"), and finally seated in the cabin.

At this point, she's wondering why she agreed to this.

Then the checks finish, the countdown begins, and the shuttle starts to shake.

Morgana's eyes roll up.

\--------

There is exactly zero privacy on board a tiny station with thirty other people. Morgana floats in the toilet stall and considers her options. The idea of recycling it in the printer doesn't appeal - they make mission-critical tools with that thing.

Sighing, she takes the pale pink ball and shoves it back between the puffy lips of her cunt. Because every shift makes her hot and because, frankly, Morgana hates to lose.

Vivian is waiting when she comes out of the toilet stall, arms crossed as she floats upside down. She raises one eyebrow.

Morgana smile secretively, and Vivian's eyes go wide.

\--------

They got out of their landing suits all of 10 minutes ago, and Vivian has already cornered her in the ladies changing room.

"Prove it," she hisses. "You can't possibly have - not the whole week."

Morgana feels her lips curl up at the edges in a dangerous smile. She's half naked already, so she slides her pants off and settles back on her towel on the bench, lifting her knees.

"Why don't you check?" she asks. Vivian looks flustered. In her victory, Morgana can afford to be magnanimous, so she slides her fingers into herself and eases the ball out between two fingers. It leaves her feeling empty, with a strong desire to press her legs together and rub.

Wide-eyed, Vivian looks down at the damp little ball between Morgana's fingers.

Morgana clears her throat. "I believe, by the terms of the challenge, I won. So. Truth or dare?"

Vivian bites her lip and blurts, "Dare."

* * *

**26.**  
**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** none

There were many things Merlin wanted from his relaxing sea-side holiday, like the smell of the sea, reading in the little café by the beach, burrowing under the blankets in the morning while he listened to the waves. None of those things included his ex-boyfriend. 

It was therefore no surprise when Arthur slid into a seat at the café, completely oblivious to the world and the fact that Merlin was dying a slow, painful death. 

A slight breeze ruffled Arthur’s hair, as well as his newspaper. It’d been a year at least since they’d run into each other by the corner shop only to struggle through a halting conversation and count down the seconds until it was alright to leave. Merlin couldn’t quite figure out if Arthur’s hair was longer now or if his memory was faulty. 

Merlin thought that he might be able to make his escape until the very moment he found himself looking straight into Arthur’s surprised face. Anger he hadn’t touched on for a very long time burned like fire in his gut and he turned away. 

“Wow. Not even a little nod to spare?” 

Hearing Arthur’s voice was strange. Even with the scathing tone, it brought back long Sunday mornings, dinners in their tiny kitchen, Arthur’s soothing voice in his ear after Will’s funeral, an entire life he’d lost under the rubble of their relationship. 

It made him angrier. 

“Hello. Didn’t see you there.” 

Arthur snorted. “Guess old age has taken a toll on your eyes.”

“Right,” Merlin said and put his book down. “So how’s forty treating you, then? Still able to get it up?”

“Why, speaking from experience?”

The absurdity of the conversation almost made Merlin laugh, but the urge died as he remembered the plans they’d made for Arthur’s 40th birthday. He wondered if Arthur had followed through on any of them. 

He thought of the adoption papers he’d stuffed into the desk drawers he’d never opened since he moved. 

The fire blazed red hot.

*

Merlin pressed his face into the pillow, determined to hold back his moans and hide his burning cheeks. The grip on his hips was bruising, fingers dug into his flesh to drag him back into the thrust. Arthur fucked him with angry jabs, rhythm steady and just this side of too slow. The only thing that betrayed Arthur’s calm was his laboured breath.

Merlin met every thrust as his frustration built. The punishing force of them couldn’t quite make up for the poor angle or the agonisingly slow pace. 

Merlin looked over his shoulder. “Come on, just _fuck_ me, you piece of shit.”

“Shut up.” Arthur’s hand splayed out between his shoulder blades and pushed him down into the sheets. 

Merlin opened his mouth in a silent shout as Arthur finally fucked him properly, the sound of their skin obscene in the stillness of the bedroom. He rutted back onto Arthur’s dick, shameless in his need to just fucking come, just get off on Arthur’s cock and throw him out of here so he could forget ever having seen the now-greying hairs Arthur had always boasted about lacking. 

The hand on his back eased the pressure, brushed down across his ribs and came to rest on his stomach. Merlin panted, confused, his skin tingling oddly where Arthur’s other hand ghosted across his hipbone. The pace slowed and then Arthur’s body covered his, hot along his back as he was pushed down flat on the mattress. 

Merlin turned his head just as Arthur’s breath brushed across his shoulder. He shivered. 

Arthur fucked him slow and deep and the angle was just there, just where it should be.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this,” Arthur said, lips brushing his ear. 

Heat spread to the tip of Merlin’s fingers and he bit down on his bottom lip, stubborn moans threatening to spill out. 

“You’re such a perfect fuck. Always eager, always so good for me.”

Merlin pressed up into the roll of Arthur’s hips, lost in the familiar words in his ear. When Arthur kissed the side of his mouth, finding mostly stubble, Merlin chased it, his heart beating rapidly as he met Arthur’s tongue. 

“Never thought you’d do this for me again,” Arthur said against his lips. “Be so good for me.”

Merlin’s fingers curled into the sheets. He gave up hiding how good it was and moaned pitifully.

“I want to come home.” Arthur’s words were muffled against his shoulder. 

Merlin sank boneless into the bed. “Yes.”

* * *

**27.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Gwaine, Arthur/Merlin (kind of?), mentions of Arthur/Others  
**Warnings:** ...prostitution?

 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” the man said. His voice sounded familiar. Maybe Arthur had heard him talking during his walks through the lower towns. He tried not to ponder on the identity of the man. It didn’t matter who the man was. The King of Camelot should not be found on his hands and knees with some random man’s fingers in his arse while the man whispered filthy words into his ear. He knew it’s a risk, but he had to do this, couldn’t keep on without this for another day.

He didn’t do this often. He only came to this place when the weight of the crown on his head got too much for him to bear alone, and he snapped a little too often at Merlin, worked his knights just that much harder, when the stable boys or squires who eagerly tumbled into his bed weren’t enough to help him fuck the stress away. Those were the kind of times he found himself putting on his oldest, most unremarkable cloak and making his way to the lower town in the middle of the night. He’d known which tavern to enter ever since he was sixteen, and he’d heard some of his older knights talking about the things the lower town people got up to at night.

Arthur knew that he could always ask Merlin for this, that Merlin wouldn’t hesitate before bending him over and—Arthur shook his head and concentrated on the feeling of fingers in his arse. Three. The man behind him twisted his fingers and Arthur let out a loud moan.

“Gonna make you come so hard,” the man said, breath ghosting over Arthur’s ear. “You like this, huh?” he said, he twisted his fingers again and pressed the tips of all three fingers against that sweet spot inside him, forcing another loud moan from Arthur.

“Do you want something else? Something better,” the man said in his ear, biting the tip of his ear lightly.

“Just get on with it,” Arthur grumbled, closing his eyes and widening his stance. The man’s voice was too familiar for all this talk to be comfortable. Arthur was glad for the darkness in the room. The only light in the room was the faint moonlight that filtered in through the window.

“Desperate, are we?” the man said, a smile in his voice. “I’ll get on with it. I’ll get on with it hard.”

Arthur nearly snorted at that. But before he could, the man was lining his cock up and pushing inside. Arthur pushed his head back and moaned. He thought of how Merlin would feel inside of him, with his body draped around Arthur’s back. Arthur imagined Merlin saying the filthy words that spilled from the man’s lips.

The man pulled almost all the way out before thrusting in. He fucked Arthur for a few more seconds, and then adjusted the angle and pushed in hard. His cock slammed against that spot inside of him, again and again until Arthur was lost in the sensation. 

The man thrust in a few more times, and then carded one hand through Arthur’s hair and wrapped the other around Arthur’s cock and started stripping it ruthlessly. He could feel his orgasm building.

“Come for me, Princess,” the man breathed against his ear. Arthur felt his eyes widen. He knew of only one person who called him that.

“Gwaine,” Arthur gasped, and came.


	3. Chapter 3

**28.**

**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Tropes:** High school, sports AU, prostate play  
 **Disclaimer:** I know nothing about sports medicine. And I know nothing about sports to be perfectly honest. :D

 

“You're not Gaius!” comes instead of greeting for what might be the tenth time that day. 

“Obviously,” Merlin allows himself at least a tiny bit of sarcasm. “I'm Merlin Emrys, Gaius' new assistant.”

“Oh, okay. I'll just come over some other time.”

“I meant medical assistant, not a PA,” Merlin says, grinning. “I'm here to help you guys. What's your name?”

The guy eyes him rather warily, but introduces himself.

“Great, Arthur!” Merlin grins at him again. “What brings you here?”

 

~x~

 

“What have I told you about over-training?” Merlin chastises Arthur, digging his fingers deeper into the knotted muscle of Arthur's left thigh. 

He kind of enjoys Arthur's hiss of pain and the sight of his fingers clenched around the side of the massage table. The stubborn prat deserves a bit of suffering for being unreasonable hot head. 

“I need to be prepared,” Arthur mumbles petulantly. 

“It doesn't work like this and you know that,” Merlin says, pressing once more.

He knows he did a good job, watching Arthur's whole body relax. He hates and loves these moments. Arthur's usual pride giving way to shy vulnerability. It's beautiful to watch. Completely mesmerizing. He yearns to drag his palms up and down the golden body splayed in front of him, and definitely not in a professional manner. 

 

~x~

 

Merlin's heart stops for a second or two. Or at least it feels that way. He runs towards the parallel bars, eyes on Arthur's crumpled form, watching him curl into a ball in pain. 

“Arthur, are you with me?” he asks as he lands beside him, almost shouting to be heard over the hum coming from tribunes. 

A whimper escapes Arthur's lips and Merlin's heart skips a beat again. This is so bad. He'd only ever heard Arthur hiss or grunt in pain.

“You'll be okay,” he promises him.

 

~x~

 

“I'm more than ready to go back to training,” Arthur says, shedding his T-shirt and trousers and hopping up on the examination table.

“That's not your decision to make,” Merlin says and starts by checking the bruising on Arthur's abdomen. “You fell on that piece of wood with all your weight. I keep telling you to be glad nothing actually severe happen.” 

He gently palpates Arthur's lower belly. 

“You could still hurt yourself more by overdoing it now, so don't be such a prat.”

Merlin glances up at hearing a sudden intake of breath.

“Does that hurt?”

“No,” Arthur says, tensing.

“Are you sure?” Merlin asks, getting a nod in response.

Yet, Arthur's growing tense with each passing second. Just to be sure, Merlin starts again, watching Arthur's face for any sign of pain. Instead Arthur turns his head away, biting his lip. The reality of massaging an 18-year-old teenager mere inches away from his genitals catches up with him, making him remember all the embarrassing moments when his cock decided to be inconveniently oversensitive. 

He pulls his hands away from Arthur's body, pushing away the idea that Arthur might have seemed disappointed by that. 

“Hold on until the final check-up on Friday, okay?”

 

~x~

 

“Try to take even breaths. It'll make it easier,” Merlin says, about to move his right index finger inside Arthur's fairly tightly clenched pucker, his other hand resting on Arthur's hip. 

“You're doing good,” he says, trying for fast and efficient yet as non-intruding as possible which he knows is pretty much impossible while sticking his finger up someone's bum. He hates to see the slight tremble in Arthur's limbs.

“Everything seems just fine,” he adds after a while, making final sweep over Arthur's prostate.

A shudder runs through Arthur's whole body.

“Merlin,” he moans, shocking him and making him a bit less careful when pulling his finger out.

Even then he can feel the first clench of what must be Arthur's climax.

“God,” Merlin breathes out, his knees going a bit weak. 

He sees Arthur peeking at him with the most heartbreakingly hopeful expression and he just can't. Arthur's still a high school student. And his patient! 

He starts to back away towards the door.

“Don't...” Arthur calls out, pretty much falling down the table. “Don't tell my father, please,” he begs, tears running down his cheeks. 

He can do nothing but wrap Arthur in a tight hug to wipe the terror from his eyes.   
~x~

 

He doesn't let Arthur kiss him that day. Nor the 145 days that follow.

But he's the one to kiss Arthur on his graduation day, the diploma crushed between their bodies.

* * *

**29.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

Merlin tapped his toes as he sat on the tube and listened to music. He chose to do some people watching. He briefly looked to his left and almost did a double take when he took in the blonde next to him.

Merlin rolled his tongue back into his mouth. When he looked over again he noticed that the man was actually staring at Merlin.

When Merlin turned to him, they locked eyes. At the next stop, he felt something being slipped under his thigh. 

Merlin took out the note as he watched the devilishly handsome blonde stand up. When he unfolded the note he gasped.

_Your ears are so sexy. I just want to grab onto them while you take my cock down your throat._

Merlin’s head whipped up and looked over at the doors. The man winked over at Merlin and then was swallowed up in the crowd.

Merlin stared at the note and was now beside himself. What if he never saw that man again? 

But he didn’t have to be worried about that. The next day, as he started his people watching routine, he saw the attractive blonde get on. He didn’t say anything about the note. He just grinned at Merlin. The way his eyes crinkled up made Merlin want to say to hell with public decorum and mount him right then and there.

About ten minutes before Merlin’s stop, as he started to despair that he would get nothing new from the man, another note was slipped under his leg.

The man eyed Merlin intently as he opened it. Once again the note was so filthy that Merlin thought he would swallow his tongue.

_I couldn’t stop touching myself last night. He kept wondering what your cock would feel like buried balls deep inside of me._

Merlin could feel something in his eyes - he wasn’t sure if it was sweat, tears, or both. He blinked them away when he noticed something else at the bottom of the note.

_Follow me if you want to learn what my cock tastes like._

The brakes squealed and everyone started to disembark. The man got up and looked over his shoulder. For once, he looked slightly wary as he waited to see what Merlin was going to do. 

Merlin briefly considered his options, before he bolted up and fought his way through the crowd. He saw the man grin as he started to walk away. 

Merlin followed him for about five minutes. They got to a posh building and the blonde looked over his shoulder one more time as he entered a room on the first floor.

Merlin as he stepped in. Suddenly, he found himself pressed up against a wall by the door. For a split second, he worried that he had seriously misread the situation.

But soon he felt the man drape himself against Merlin’s back and lick slowly up the shell of his ear. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Merlin was so hard already.

The man rubbed his clothed cock up against Merlin’s arse. He bit down on one Merlin’s right earlobe. “You really weren’t kidding about these ears.”

In his lust-filled haze, Merlin wondered briefly what he meant by that, but all thoughts flew out of his brain as the blonde flicked his tongue in Merlin’s ear and thrust it in and out at the same time he reached in Merlin’s trousers and began to stroke his cock.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard and make you scream my name. You won’t ever be able to get off with another man without hearing my name in your ears.”

Merlin licked his lips as the man unbuckled Merlin’s belt. “It would be helpful to know your name then.”

The blonde paused suddenly and raised his eyebrow up. “You don’t remember my name?”

“You never told me it.”

The man took a step back. “Of course I did. You’re Howie from the fetlife website?”

Realization hit Merlin. He pulled up his pants. “No, my name’s Merlin.”

The man looked red-faced. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. He said that he would be on the tube and you looked just like he described…”

They just stared at each other awkwardly. 

“I’m Arthur, by the way.”

Merlin tried to shake his hand, but when his trousers slipped he pulled away and held on to them. Merlin wondered if he should make a hasty retreat. He started to say good-bye.

“It’s a shame. Your ears...they’re perfect.” Arthur grinned.

It took Merlin a few seconds before he made a quick decision and pulled Arthur in for a sloppy kiss. He pulled back. “We’ll just call this a happy accident.”

* * *

**30.**

**Sweet O’ Heart Of Mine**

_“Merlin,”_ Arthur practically growled, pressing him up against the wall, caging him in. “Don’t you ever do that again. Ever.”

“Well, howdy to you too, Sheriff” Merlin said with a smile, very comfortable despite Arthur invading his personal space. 

He’s sunburnt, Arthur noticed. There was a dusting of red on Merlin’s nose and the tips of his ears. Other than that he looks none the worse for wear. 

“You can’t pull stunts like that,” Arthur said, both frustrated and worried at the same time. He supposes that’s what love is. To both fret and adore. “Going to the next town all by your lonesome. You could’ve been hurt.” _Or worse._ By the gods, in this lawless land, it could’ve been so much worse. 

“There was no other way.” Merlin explained. “I’m not going to sit here and do nothin’ when the vaccine was just a town away. Missus LeFaye’s girls needed it. _“Arthur,”_ he said, voice gentle, feeling so much like a caress that Arthur couldn’t help but lean into the softness of Merlin’s voice. “I’m okay, truly. You’re just a worrywart.”

“You’ve more guts than sense,” Arthur grumbled, resting his forehead upon Merlin’s shoulder. He can’t go through this again, can’t have Merlin go gettin’ himself into trouble without having him _know._

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked, concern in his voice as he brought his hand up to card through Arthur’s hair. 

They’ve always been like this in private, less than lovers, more than friends. Until now. 

“I’m sweet on you,” Arthur confessed. It’s stupid, how badly his heart pounds at those words. He’s fought in wars, participated in duels, caught outlaws without even a sweat and yet waiting for Merlin’s reply had him quaking in his boots. 

“I’m smitten for you too,” Merlin said, easy as pie, silly grin on his face. “More than smitten, in fact.” 

“Good.” Arthur says, before leaning up for a kiss. It’s not sweet, not at all gentle. There’s a hunger, a desperate need that Merlin seemed to share as well. 

They kiss like it was the last time, even though they knew, that this was just the beginning. 

Their tongues lapped at each other as Arthur trailed his hand downwards, leaving a trail of bared flesh before plucking at the buttons on Merlin’s trousers. 

Merlin gasped, made this pinched little whine as Arthur grasped his cock and stroked him. “A-Arthur,” he stuttered, hips hitching into Arthur’s touch. “More.”

“I knew you’d be like this,” Arthur said in between dappling Merlin’s lips with kisses. 

Merlin moaned, trying to fuck Arthur’s fist while his hands clawed at Arthur’s back. “Like?”

“Needy.” Arthur tugged on Merlin’s balls, palmed at them before playing with the wet tip of Merlin’s cock. “Desperate,” he mumbled, suckling a wide, red hickey on nape of Merlin’s neck. “Perfect for me.” 

“Prat,” Merlin huffed, trailing his hands across Arthur’s chest to tear open his shirt.

“Oi,” Arthur said with a chiding nip on one of Merlin’s ears. “You’re going to have to mend that later.”

Merlin laughs, totally unconvinced. He traces patterns along Arthur’s chest, plays with those dusky nipples before travelling lower to undo Arthur’s belt. “I want this in me,” he demanded, stroking Arthur’s cock in a possessive manner, getting his fingers slick with precome. 

“Later,” Arthur promised. Then he’s gripped both their cocks, rubbing them together. The friction took their breath away, had Merlin rolling his eyes back as his head thumped against the wall. 

“Arthur, Arthur,” he babbled,” lost in the pleasure shared between them. His face was adoringly pinched, sweat at his temples as his mouth formed a perfect, enticing ‘o’.

“There’s so much-” Arthur grunted, precome slickening his fingers, making his grip glide over their cocks. “I want to do to you.” Later, in the safety of their own homes and not in one of Missus’ LeFaye’s guestrooms. He’ll fuck Merlin’s mouth, that lovely bottom, make love of every inch of Merlin and worship every inch of lovely, pale flesh. 

He bit down onto Merlin’s shoulder and came, spurting over his fingers. He was still rocking into Merlin, rubbing against him while he brought Merlin to his own completion. 

Then, while they were both panting for breath and Merlin looked woozy with the afterglow of his orgasm. Arthur leaned up, and kissed Merlin on the forehead, soft, tender and so very sincere.

* * *

 **31.**  
 **Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** An alien race with vague D/s AU origins and/or pheromones and all the dubiousness that implies. Erm.

He has seen them before; all the peoples on this side of the cluster come to _Avalon V_ after all. But they are...

Different.

Some say the Druids are the most ancient race in the universe, others that they've special limbs, extra sex organs, and still others whisper that it's the pheromones they have, makes them want to hit the floor like they do.

Arthur sees them all the time, but still he watches, licks his lips.

\---

Merlin has long, long fingers and eyes that can gleam like a trick of the light, that catch on Arthur's skin from across the central plaza and wake him deep in the night, sweaty and shaking.

\---

"Fuck, Arthur, _you shouldn't be here_. Get out! This is a Druid club! They're going to put the crowd Under, it isn't safe, _dammit_."

Just as Arthur's about to tell Merlin exactly what he thinks of that – putting the crowd Under, what bollocks – a wave sweeps through as the beat drops, and so do Arthur's knees.

\---

He drops. And drops.

And for once he finally understands what that means.

It's like floating.

\---

" _Arthur, I need you to follow me, okay? I'll take care of you, I promise._ "

\---

The throb carries him along, hazy, indistinct, and he pulses with it. Still falling, _and falling_.

But Merlin's sure arms wrap around him, show him how to walk again, anchored. Safe. And Arthur flows.

\---  
" _Here, this rug's soft, you can kneel. No one'll come in, it's only me._ " Merlin's voice is soft, soothing, and he touches Arthur, so gently.

Arthur grins. This, this is what he's always dreamt of in the quiet dark.

" _God, Arthur, you shouldn't've been able to get in the club. Shouldn't've known where it even_ was. _Were you following someone?_ "

And Arthur beams, head tipped up at Merlin's concerned face, because he knows the answer. "You, of course, I'd follow you anywhere," he slurs, tongue thick and heavy – but it doesn't matter, Merlin'll take care of him, he _promised_.

Merlin's eyes widen and he jerks back, a strangled sound caught in his throat. He closes his eyes and breathes.

" _Bleeding fuck, Arthur. That's– Fucking hell,_ " he pauses and looks back down at Arthur again, something almost frantic. " _God, you've no idea what you do to me. How gorgeous you are._ "

Arthur's entire body flushes at the praise, a shiver of satisfaction coiling low in his belly; he whimpers.

" _Shit, okay. But you shouldn't've been there, this kind of drop's extremely dangerous to non-Druids. It'll kill you if I don't guide you through, your body won't be able to adjust._ " Merlin exhales and Arthur twitches at the faint puff on his skin. " _It'll be easier with– sexual contact. Do you trust–_ "

"Yes," Arthur moans before Merlin can finish. _Yesyesyes_ , he trusts, he wants, needs to feel Merlin's fingers and his tongue. All that corded muscle that must be underneath.

 _His prick._ He whines at the thought. _Now, he needs it now._

And then Merlin is blessedly, mercifully there, hands in Arthur's hair, petting him like he's treasured, and Arthur cries. More, he needs _more_.

" _I've got you, promise, suck on this for me, will you, love. So good for me. So good._ " Arthur calms at the feel of Merlin's thumb at his lips, on his tongue, and breathes in Merlin's scent, glowing at the praise.

\---

When Merlin stretches Arthur across his lap, Arthur begs for Merlin to smack his arse until it's red and aching and _Merlin's, he only wants to be Merlin's, please_ , and Merlin makes the most wounded noise Arthur's ever heard, striking his arse ruddy and then jamming in there, getting at where it aches and riding Arthur's prostate until he thinks he'll cry.

Because he can't, _he can't_ , Merlin's strung up his cock with a pretty little cock ring, rambling straight into Arthur's ear, because "you're so good, Arthur, I've dreamt about this for so long."

Arthur is too incoherent to reply: _me too_.

But then Merlin puts him back on his knees, and he always wants to be on his knees, right here, right for Merlin, and holds Arthur still with strong, _strong_ hands until Arthur has no choice but to choke on Merlin's cock.

And he loves it. He _loves it_ , and he never wants it to stop, this slow fucking on his tongue, even when tears streak down his face and into his collarbones. It's _everything_ in that moment, the universe condensed down to Merlin's care.

\---

For the first time in his life Arthur lets go.

* * *

**32.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Dirty talk (and as many other kinks as I could shoehorn in!). Merlin and Arthur are 17 here, so underage in some countries.

“You know what I’d like to do to you?” Merlin says lazily. “I’d like to fuck your mouth. I’d like to push you onto your knees and feed you my cock. Watch your pretty red lips stretch tight around it, gasping for air as I thrust it in. Make you kneel there and just take it, take my cock until you’re gagging, panting, drooling around it, and you can’t do anything but let me fuck your face until I’m satisfied. Until I come in your hot little mouth and refuse to pull out till you’ve swallowed every last drop, and thanked me for it. Until I can see in your eyes how much you love the way I fucking _own_ you.”

Arthur barely blinks.

They’re in detention for fighting. Again. After the first two days of furiously whispered arguments while Mr Gaius frowned at them from the front, they were trying something different. Merlin can’t remember who said the first filthy thing, who introduced this new game for the two of them to play, but it doesn’t matter now. 

All that matters is he wins.

“The next time we play football at break,” Arthur says quietly. “And you let in another goal – because you _will_ let in another goal Merlin, you’re beyond useless – I’m gonna spank you. In front of everyone in our year, I’m gonna bend you over, pull down your jeans and boxers, and spank your tight little arse until you cry. And everyone watching will know that you belong to me now, that you’re mine to discipline and punish. And when I lick all those humiliated tears off your face you’ll know it too.”

Jesus Christ. 

It’s not the first time Merlin’s got hard playing this game, but that’s probably the fastest it’s ever happened. Nothing Arthur’s saying _should_ turn him on and yet the dirty-wrong idea of being shamed like that, so publicly, everyone watching as Arthur claims him…

Merlin regroups quickly. Arthur’s staring straight ahead, a beatific smile on his face. God, Merlin wants to make him squirm.

He leans in close.

“You’re a virgin, right?” 

Arthur twitches and Merlin smirks.

“Don’t bother lying, I can tell. It’s written all over you. God, you must be desperate for something in that needy hole of yours by now. I wonder if you could come on my fingers alone? Stretched out behind the bike sheds, spreading your legs for me to fuck my fingers up inside you. Maybe I’d shove my tongue in there too, lick you out until you’re begging for my cock, pushing your hungry arse up in the air. But you haven’t been a good boy and earned it so I just milk you dry with my fingers, other hand clamped tight around your cock so you can’t come, you only get what little release I allow you.”

 

Arthur makes a funny choking noise and Mr Gaius looks up sharply. Merlin smiles, bland and reassuring.  
Arthur waits until Mr Gaius looks away before speaking again.

“Tomorrow morning,” he says intently. “I’m gonna drag you into the toilets and lock you in a cubicle with me. Then I’m gonna take a little remote control vibrator, and I’m gonna shove it up your arse. You won’t take it out, because I’ve told you to be a good boy for me, and you know what happens when you disobey. I’m gonna sit next to you in class all day and every time the teacher or a classmate talks to you, I’m gonna turn it up. Watch you squirm as that thing vibrates in your little hole, watch you blush and stammer as you try to keep yourself from moaning out loud. But you won’t be able to, not when I turn it all the way up and you come with a scream, and it soaks through your jeans so everyone can see what a dirty slut you really are-”

“Time, boys,” Mr Gaius announces, already halfway out the door. “See you tomorrow.”

Merlin lets out a shaky breath. 

Then he’s straddling Arthur’s lap, rubbing up against him desperately, listening to Arthur groan in arousal as he works his fingers into the back of Merlin’s jeans. Merlin gets his hands down Arthur’s boxers and starts to jerk him off with rough strokes while Arthur slips a finger inside him and they’re panting and they’re gasping and they’re sweating and…

Arthur comes first. Merlin chalks that up to a win for himself. 

But he’s open to a rematch.

* * *

**33.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Balinor/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Strong dub con/non-con (b/c slavery and heat or omega-like traits), slavery, sort of incest-y (Merlin and Balinor share Arthur, however, they don't touch each other), self-lubrication

 

Setting: Antiquity (Scythian AU with dragons and magic)  
Trope: Kidnapped (taken in battle)  
Kink: Virginity (Merlin is a virgin)

 

There was a male slave in attendance when Merlin entered his father's tent, upon his return with the dragons from the high pastures. 

He was Merlin's age, and as stocky and powerful as a snow leopard. He had hair the colour of larch wood, wide-set blue eyes, and a firm jaw. His mouth – made for guffaws and bragging – was frozen into sullen silence.

"You've known nothing but mountains and dragons all summer," Balinor said, once Merlin had settled next to him. "Let me offer you something else. A gift, for your coming of age." 

The slave came and knelt on the rug in front of them. He met Merlin's gaze, and did not look away. Instead it was Merlin who averted his eyes. When Merlin looked again the slave had removed his loincloth, and his expression had gone blank. 

The slave turned around and settled in the submissive position. Merlin had never seen a man like that, and felt his face heat up. Having a slave displayed did not normally arouse anything in him but pity, but those slaves were always girls. 

He tried to look without seeing. He pretended he was watching the land stretch out from a moutaintop. The slave's buttocks became the holy mounds of the ancestors; his spine a river valley; his muscles foothills; the hollows of his lower backs dried ponds in summer. 

Balinor ruined the illusion. He moved in, and parted the slave's buttocks. His tattoo-covered arms –emblem of the Dragonlord caste – were dark against the slave's unmarked skin.

He spat on the fingers of one hand, and placed them where no one should want to touch another. The slave curved his back, and a groan escaped his lips. He pressed against Balinor's hand, and his skin sank easily, springy like the steppe at snow-melt. Fluid rose around the intrusion. 

Merlin's eyes widened.

Balinor pulled out, and his fingers disengaged with a sucking noise, as if the slave's arse was loathe to part with them.

"He'll wet for his master, and he'll always enjoy being used. Something in him is attracted to our magic, poor wretch. He was taken in battle. They say he was a fearless warrior, but now he's just a bedslave."

He opened his robe and lowered his trousers. He coated himself with the slick on his fingers, and penetrated the slave with one thrust. It shouldn't fit, but it did. The slave keened as he was speared. 

Merlin cried out.

He stared as Balinor took a man like he would have taken a woman.

And the slave enjoyed himself. Even if his noises and the way he met each thrust hadn't betrayed him, his hard, leaking length most certainly would have.

Balinor pulled out unspent. His thumb slotted in to fill the void he had left. The gape began to close as he soothed it.

"We paid two gryphon yearlings for him. We realised … You don't enjoy women, do you?"

Merlin was too overwhelmed to question the fortune his parents had parted with, or to deny what they had finally understood. Nothing seemed to matter but the angle of the slave's back, and the way in which he rocked against Balinor's thumb. Merlin craved him like he had never craved anything in his life.

 

"Claim him. He's yours."

Merlin unlaced his trousers and nestled the tip of his hardness at the swollen, half-open hole. He hesitated, and the slave took the decision for him. He pushed back, and engulfed him. 

It felt like what a sword must feel like as returned to its sheath; slotting into a place of safety. They both sighed as Merlin bottomed out.

Balinor positioned himself at the other end. Soon the only sounds were the slapping of flesh against flesh and the muted moans spilling from a mouth filled to the brim. 

Spit-roasted between them, the slave's body was like a sacrificial beast. 

Balinor finished first, pulling out to spurt on the slave's face. Merlin followed. The contractions around him told him that he had not been alone.

"I'll have him installed in your tent," Balinor said afterwards. "Now let's have a bath before joining the women. Your mother and sister have missed you."

Merlin turned to the slave, and was going to ask for his name, but the rage in those pale eyes silenced him.

Magic may have shackled the snow leopard; it had not tamed it.

* * *

**34.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** school-aged, up to the reader to decide if it's underage

“Good game Pendragon.”

“Emrys.”

They shake hands and Merlin receives the usual post-practice bum pat when there’s a sudden change to the regime – an undeniable pinch. He freezes and turns round but Arthur is already jogging to catch up with Lance, pert little arse bouncing all the way to the change room.

“I’ll catch you up in a minute lads,” Arthur says, clapping a hand on Percy’s shoulder and all but pushing him out the door. “There’s something I need to take care of first.”

Arthur waits until they’re all gone and then turns to face Merlin, wearing an expression that’s downright predatory. Merlin swallows.

And that’s how it begins.

***

It’s nothing obscene, just a couple of mates helping each other get off after the game. Who doesn’t like a post-workout wank? Well apparently not the rest of his team but frankly they’re missing out. Because in Merlin’s book, nothing is better than the strong grip of Arthur’s hand as he fucks into it, still sweaty from the match. Arthur brings him off the same way he plays; with firm, steady strokes and an air that says he’s had a lot of practice at it. 

Merlin’s technique is nowhere near as refined but Arthur never complains, just empties himself with a soft gasp. Part of him wishes he could make Arthur lose control, wonders what it would be like to hear Arthur moan. Then he comes back to his senses and feels like he’s crossed some kind of invisible line by fantasising about his best mate. Which, considering how frequently they have their dicks in each other’s hands, is a bit weird.

***

It finally happens that one day he misses a game. Coach is none too happy but it’s hardly like they’re a pro-league. It’s a school team – Coach can deal. He gets there in time to catch the last five minutes and watch them get absolutely wiped. Thinking that Arthur might be down for a cheer-up wank, he heads for the change room.

Of course, he probably should have announced his arrival. Because then he probably wouldn’t of walked in on Arthur in the showers, jerking-off like it’s going out of style with three fingers up his arse. Arthur opens his eyes and Merlin runs for it, cock digging painfully into his jeans the entire way.

***

It’s not like he fancies Arthur or anything. That would be gay and Merlin is _not_ gay. He went out with Freya for half a term for Christ’s sake! No, Merlin is perfectly confident in his sexuality…except that he can’t seem to get the image of Arthur fingering himself out of his head. And the lovely squelching sounds as he pounded into himself. And the way the water caught on his lips, parted in silent ecstasy.  
Okay maybe he’s a little bit gay.

***

 

Arthur is avoiding him and it’s starting to be a problem. Not only has he gone without a post-game hand job for the last two matches (which his dick is _very_ unimpressed with), but he misses having a laugh with his best mate. That, and they’ve been playing so badly that Coach is just about ready to eat his hat. So Merlin decides to take matters into his own hands and talk it out like responsible human beings.

“Arthur, do you have a minute?”

Arthur looks like he’s going to protest but after a moment seems to think better of it.

“Go on Lance, I’ll call you later.”

Arthur closes the door behind him.

“Merlin-”

“Do you always use your fingers like that?”

“What?” Arthur’s eyes go wide.

“Because it was really fucking hot.”

“I was thinking of you when I did it,” says Arthur, voice hoarse.

Merlin kind of thinks neither of them actually meant to admit these things, but as he crosses the room and crushes his mouth to Arthur’s, he’s really fucking glad they did.

They end up in the showers, a trail of clothes indicating the path he doesn’t remember them taking. He gets Arthur under the spray like before, only this time his tongue replaces Arthur’s fingers.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he whispers, running his tongue in slow circles around Arthur’s rim. “Imagining you wet and moaning for it.”

“Christ Merlin,” Arthur whimpers.

“Knew you’d be noisy. So noisy and beautiful, all for me.”

He stands and replaces his tongue with his cock, lining it up carefully.

“I don’t want you to hold back,” he says, pressing in.

When Arthur comes he wants them to be able to hear it out on the pitch.

* * *

**35.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Minor character death, dubcon

A fortnight had passed since Arthur swore his vows and took up his father’s mantel, and already gossip piggybacked on the peasant’s tongues.

“Kanen’s raiders stalk the borderland of Ealdor, seeding the earth with bone,” they murmured.

***

Arthur selected twenty of his knights, commanding their horses into spear-straight lines.

They rode through thicket and forest in search of the raiders; along the knife-edge of sleep.

On the twelfth night the skeletal timbers of Ealdor broke into view. Arthur’s men wove through its gutted frame, their horses whinnying at the stench.

A single dwelling had been spared.

Arthur paused at the entrance. Something squealed inside.

Dried herbs dangled from the walls. Broken pottery and trampled provisions littered the earthen floor, crackling under their footfall.

A woman lay belly-up on a mattress, her gut weeping crimson into the straw, milky eyes open to a world she could no longer see.

“Have you seen the strange markings on these pots?” Leon asked, brushing the crockery aside with his sword. “This is the home of a sorceress.”

Arthur closed the woman’s eyes, shrouding her corpse with his cape.

“Regardless, she deserves a proper burial,” he said.

Entangled in a net at the corner of the room shrieked a Merlin; wings writhing like sails in a squall. Arthur knelt beside it. He placed a steady hand at its breast.

As a youth he’d kept a goshawk found on a hunt, broken legged, but mended under his care. This bird was equally handsome.

“Come now,” Arthur cooed, stroking his fingers through the bird’s plumage. “I’m only trying to help.”

Yanking his dagger from his belt, he sliced opened the net. The Merlin cried out, rewarding Arthur with a nip before flying off.

It perched up in the rafters, watching him like a gargoyle.

“Little brat,” he teased, sucking his bloody thumb into his mouth. “Head south-east, if you know what’s good for you.”

***

The graves were not handsome, but they were solid and built of the men’s finest efforts.

Arthur recited the eulogy.

As the last reverence fell from his lips the branches of an oak tree swayed above him, sighing as a Merlin took flight.

***

Winter came.

It crept stealthily onto their cloaks and into their gloves. It froze wefts through their mail and out their boots, wracking their bodies with shivers.

The snow bound their eyelashes. It kissed their cheeks as it gagged their mouths, forcing them to stop mid-march and make camp.

***

Taking a piss beside the common tent, a glint in the sky caught Arthur’s eye; a bird, spiralling from the air as if thrown from heaven itself.

Tucking himself into his smalls, he trudged through snowdrifts towards a fresh crater.

Arthur shovelled a handful of ice, and then another.

A young man appeared hidden under a thin veil of powder. His cheeks were frost-burned, his hair black as ravens.

Arthur had never seen anyone so beautiful.

***

Arthur stumbled into the tent, cradling the semi-conscious foundling.

All eyes snapped upon him, the gaze of the knights sharper than the swords they carried.

The stranger groaned.

Leon took one look at Arthur and shook his head.

“I won’t let him die,” Arthur sputtered.

“Then he’ll need to be warmed,” said Leon.

 

***

Arthur shrugged off his mail, shucked his tunic, and divested his breeches.

The young man was lean, and pale as birch. He was so frigid that each laboured breath rattling his ribs seemed a miracle.

Arthur couldn’t say why the stranger’s life was of importance, and yet the thought of losing him to death was unacceptable.

He slid under the pile of furs, cradling the young man to his chest. For hours Arthur rubbed his hands over his cool flesh, willing him back to life with a steady rhythm of friction.

Soft hair dusted the man’s inner thighs. Arthur felt the velvet of his cock slide against his hip, hearing a slight hitch in his own voice as their bollocks grazed. Moulding his hands over smooth swells of buttocks, Arthur watched his foundling come alive under his touch.

This man wasn’t bedded for his pleasure, Arthur reminded himself. He mustn't confuse survival with lust.

The man’s teeth clacked. His body arched, lashes fluttering open as he came too.

He stared through Arthur, gasping.

“It’s all right,” Arthur cooed, stroking his fingers over the frightened man's cheek. “You’re safe.”

The man’s lips parted, his face surrendering deeper into Arthur’s palm.

And then the bastard bit him.

* * *

**36.**

**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** boarding school setting, so possibly underage--intended as 17, but ages are never mentioned.

October wind comes in through the opened window with smells of wet earth and dead leaves, but Merlin’s still too hot under his blazer, half-hard in his school trousers. 

Arthur’s gone for the weekend, so Merlin just takes everything off without worry, and grabs Arthur’s undershirt, yellowed-white and worn-soft.

He fattens up quick like this: the shirt to his nose, a hand on his dick, fingers in his arse, and a flush all over his skin--embarrassed, angry at himself for wanting it this way. He inhales and his dick jumps in his fist, spurts precome just from that.

***

“Is that what you like?” Arthur says, rolling his sleeves up. “Stick things in your ass? Steal a guy’s shirt?”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Wetter,” he says, watching Arthur lick his fingers. “Spit on them. Come on, fucking suck on them.”

It’s simpler in the almost-dark--behind the garden shed, deep into the school grounds--to not be too ashamed. It still churns in his stomach, but not enough to distract from the heat pooling there. Not enough to soften his dick. 

Arthur looks at him--at his shirt and tie and blazer all in place, but trousers around his ankles, fat dick peeking out from under the shirt’s hem. 

“Fucking look ridiculous,” he says, popping his fingers out of his mouth with a slick sound.

Merlin snorts. Arthur has his tie around his head like a dickhead and still smells like the wine they filched from the Headmaster’s office. “Yeah?” he says. “You don’t look like you mind much,” staring at Arthur’s bulge, all shadows between his legs.

Arthur grabs him, spins him around hard. “Come on, stick it out like you want to,” he says with a swat to Merlin’s arse, kicking the inside of his feet so Merlin widens his legs as much as he can. 

Whatever. Merlin sticks it out because, yes, that’s what he wants.

“Yeah, like that,” Arthur murmurs. His hand slides over Merlin’s arsecheek and squeezes. “Would love to watch you. See what it was like, the way you made yourself jizz all over my clothes.”

Merlin’s breath catches, grateful for the low light when he feels himself flush. He can’t contain the shiver that goes through him, hot cheek on the cool wood of the shed.

Arthur laughs low, fingers running up and down Merlin’s crack. “Slag.”

“Gonna complain?” Merlin says, sending him a look over his shoulder.

“This doesn’t mean--Just giving you what you want.” Arthur presses close so Merlin can feel him as he shoves one wet finger between his arsecheeks. He finds Merlin’s hole quickly and doesn’t stop to ask, just keeps pushing, rough little twists to screw them in good. “Aren’t I nice?”

***

Arthur’s procured lube. Asked Lance, who asked his girlfriend Gwen at St. Augustine’s, who asked her big brother. Now Lance says Arthur owes him one because Gwen’s brother thinks Lance does her backdoor. “Should be happy,” Arthur said. “Means you won’t get her preggers.”

Merlin’s naked on all fours on his bed, dick heavy between his thighs. “Did you really tell him that,” he asks, and Arthur hums, rubs lube over Merlin’s hole with the flat of his fingers. “Fuck you’re an asshole,” he adds, then, “Goddammit, Arthur. It’s not fucking lotion, fucking do something.”

Arthur shoves two fingers in without warning and starts pumping, steady and fast the way he knows by now Merlin likes.

For the first time, it’s light outside. From where he is on the bed, Merlin can see out the window where people are playing football. They wouldn’t see him, if they looked up, but it makes him hot anyway. He shoves back into Arthur’s fingers, gets his hands on the wall to straighten himself, curve his back, dick dripping on the bedsheets.

“More,” he says, breathless, quick, hand going from the wall to behind him. His fingertips brush Arthur’s wrist and he feels Arthur’s other hand curl around it.

“Put it in, then,” he says, rough and low. He guides Merlin’s hand, grips his middle finger and puts it where Merlin can feel the rim of his hole all stretched around Arthur’s fingers. “Show me how you do it. Let me see.” 

Merlin does, hooks his fingertip in, moans--from the stretch, the tightness and the heat. From the loud wet sound it makes, all the lube Arthur rubbed there to make it this easy. 

“Told you so,” Arthur says, and starts fucking in again, fingers rubbing Merlin’s own, dragging it deeper.

* * *

**37.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Gwen  
 **Warnings:** Aliens Made Them Do It (thus dubcon)

He was passing Sergeant Smith in a passageway when the world slipped sideways and then they were clinging to each other, naked, in some sort of clearing surrounded by unfamiliar plants and – ugh, those unnerving little creatures with sharp claws and no eyes that he knew only from Smith's reports.

"Oh, that's rather inconvenient," she said, disengaging herself while Arthur scrambled for a weapon and, since he had none, awkwardly settled for holding his hands over his genitals. 

"What's going on?" he demanded. 

"Captain Pendragon," Smith said in a carefully controlled voice, "I'm fairly sure the Sagunil need for us to have sex now."

"They – _what_?"

"You see, I've been doing a lot of research on their lifecycle so they... they've suggested a reciprocal arrangement – which is really only fair, in principle! Though I was expecting them to bring me here with... er... someone I spend more of my time with."

"So tell them it's not happening," Arthur said, because he was a man of action and would not waste his time worrying about whom this incredibly intelligent and put-together xenobiologist, with soft skin and charming dimples and breasts that he had always tried not to stare at, though that was getting particularly difficult now, as she stared at him with her hands on her hips... No, he did _not_ care whom Gwen Smith would have preferred to preform weird sex acts for aliens with.

"Respectfully, sir, I can't very well _tell_ them without the comlink in place, can I?" 

"Er..."

She sighed. "They don't even use language the way we do, although they can perceive sound, and movement, and... well. Chemistry."

"We could scream," Arthur suggested. 

"The thing is, I may have already informed them that human screams can indicate intense pleasure, as well as distress."

"Sergeant Smith –"

"It's just Gwen, please." She stepped closer to him again, touched his elbow. "At least for now. As far as they're concerned we're just two humans – young and healthy ones, even. And our bodies fit together in a way that's interesting for them – they don't have genders, you know, or intercourse." 

Arthur hadn't known.

 

"I think we might as well give them a little show."

"And if we refuse?"

"Well, then they'll probably kill us and dissect us. Hopefully in that order!" She laughed briefly and then stopped. "They need _some_ new research material, don't they?"

She sat on the ground and tugged gently at Arthur's hand till he joined her. "Come on, haven't you ever thought about how we'd fit? I know I have."

"That wouldn't be appropriate," Arthur said, not looking at her.

"No, it wouldn't be, not back on the ship." She kissed him and placed his palm on her breast. "But here I can tell you, and you can feel for yourself. Whenever you look at me, my face and my chest go hot. Ever since I joined the expedition." In a whisper she added, "And my cunt, would you like to feel that too?"

Arthur nodded dumbly and she pulled at his wrist. His fingers hesitated at her curls but then slipped easily into her warm, wet opening. Gwen smiled wide as Arthur's mouth fell open.

"They must have been tracking my body temperatures," she mused, wrapping her arms around him and starting to ride his hand, "or maybe my blood flow or – but they must have sensed my arousal somehow, and that's how they knew to bring us here together."

"You wanted it to be someone else," Arthur said, withdrawing his hand.

Gwen huffed in exasperation and crawled on top of him. She'd been polite enough to ignore his erection up till now, but she gripped it firmly as she lowered herself onto his cock. "Listen better, Arthur," she ordered, and he did, gratefully, timing his thrusts to her words and moans as she told him, "I thought it would be, nnh, but I wanted this." She leaned close so her fabulous breasts touched his chest and they moved against each other in sweat and heat. "I fuck other men, yeah. I like them, we have a good time. But I'm always thinking of you."

"And me," Arthur grunted, "I'm always," thinking of her when he lay in his quarters, thrusting into his hand, "I never, with anyone else," because it was _never_ appropriate, not with the captain, the general's son.

"Oh, _Arthur_." He watched her face crumple as she understood, and he knew it wasn't with pain.

Arthur screamed as he came after her.

* * *

**38.**

**Pairing(s):** Gwen/Lancelot(/Cendred)  
 **Warnings:** non-con/dub-con, voyeurism

 

Gwen and Morgana sit in the tense silence of the surveillance van, eyes fixed on the screen.

On it, Lancelot grows increasingly stiff--and not in a good way--as the businessman-cum-drug-lord tries to coax him onto the bed in the club’s private room.

"We shouldn't have used a civilian. I could've done this no problem," Morgana murmurs.

"Cendred wouldn't have gone for you," Gwen reminds her. "He's been in love with Lancelot for ages."

They all stare as Cendred pauses in unbuttoning Lance's shirt to ask what was wrong. Muffled club music pounds in the background. Lancelot's hands are clenched into fists.

Morgana sighs. "We're going to have pull him out. We'll find another way in."

"No," Gwen says. This is their _shot_ , and Lance had been so determined. _Hundreds of dead kids_ , he'd said, right before he'd swallowed hard and agreed to do it. Gwen leans forward and switches on the comms. "You're doing great, Lance, just relax."

Lance's eyes flicker up at the security cam as Cendred begins to kiss down his neck.

Morgana whispers urgently: "Cendred will kill him if this goes south."

Gwen knows. It's all she can think of for a blinding minute, but she also knows Lancelot, and he will never, ever forgive himself if they pull him out and then someone else gets hurt. He'd carry that forever. 

"Give us ten minutes," Gwen said, and stares down Morgana until she sighs and gets out of the van.

"Lancelot? Morgana went for a walk. It's just you and me now." Gwen chews on her lip. "I could...talk you through it? Look down if that's what you want."

Lancelot's gaze drops so fast that Gwen sucks in a breath.

"Good then. I'm right here."

Cendred has broken apart to strip off his suit, his gaze heavy on Lance.

"Might be easier if you don't have to look at him," Gwen suggests. "Tell him you want to fuck him."

"I want—," Lancelot repeats dutifully, but falters.

"Yeah, baby?" Cendred pulls off his socks and saunters over. "What do you want?"

"I want...to make love to you."

Oh god. Gwen feels disgusting all over again for putting this pure, earnest man in this situation.

Cendred laughs disbelievingly, his face going soft, because even the child-killer is charmed by Lancelot. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course, how do you want me?"

"On—. From behind. Please."

Cendred groans. "Only you would say 'please.’" He leaned in for a kiss before he dropped onto all fours on the bed. "Lube and condoms in the nightstand."

"You're doing so well," Gwen whispers as Lancelot retrieves them.

Lancelot fumbles with the condom. Gwen can't see it from this angle, but from the look of frustration on his face, he must be having difficulty getting hard enough.

"Think of someone else," Gwen urges gently. "Someone lovely. Who do you wish it were instead?"

"You," Lancelot says aloud.

Gwen freezes, heart beating like a kettle drum, while Cendred waggles his bum and says, "Hmm?"

"You," Lancelot repeats, after a beat. "You're lovely."

Cendred makes a little sound. "I can’t believe you—. I’ve wanted you forever, god, _fuck_ me."

Gwen recovers her ability to breathe. "Me, Lance?"

"Yeah," he breathes, and shuffles close against Cendred's arse.

"Think of me, then. Do it now."

Gwen can't see the place where they meet, but she does see slight grimace on Cendred's face as Lancelot works himself in, stiltedly. Still not properly hard enough, she guesses, and she almost wants to clutch her heart as he pats Cendred's murderous arse in apology.

"You're amazing," Gwen tells him. "I bet you would be so, so gentle with me, wouldn't you?"

Lancelot's breath picks up, and she watches his hips shift. She imagines him stiffening up inside Cendred’s body.

"You'd stroke me and make sure I was ready," and Gwen's moan matches Cendred's when Lancelot does it, reaching around to take Cendred in hand.

"I'd beg you to go faster, but you wouldn't, would you? You'd make sure I was dripping wet before you'd fuck me properly."

Lancelot's hips _snap_ at Cendred, who lets out a startled but sincere groan.

"Close your eyes, Lance," Gwen says. "Make love to me.”

And he does. He makes Cendred happy and trusting and—if there is a god—willing to give up security codes.

When Cendred comes, Gwen feels like he’s stolen an orgasm from her.

That’s alright. Gwen’s going to steal it back.

* * *

**39.**

**Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur**   
**Warnings: none**

“What the hell is going on here?” 

Merlin had never been so relieved to hear the clear ringing voice of his high school nemesis, Arthur Pendragon. 

He had made the mistake of getting caught alone in the boys’ locker room with Dagr and Ebor, two not very bright and very mean members of the football team Arthur captained. 

He was out in a small high school in a small town, and while most of his classmates were accepting, a few were not. There was a core group of jocks, including these two assholes, who were always harassing Merlin. 

Arthur was a senior, and Merlin was only a sophomore, but for some reason Arthur seemed to be in his face all the time. But he had to give Arthur credit; he didn’t seem to be homophobic. 

It was just that Merlin’s very presence seemed to antagonize Arthur, and he often taunted Merlin for his skinny frame and his bookish ways. 

But now he was pulling Dagr and Ebor away from where they had Merlin in a corner, _not_ cowering, thank you very much, even though it seemed like he was about to get beat up or worse. 

The two creeps beat a hasty retreat, and Arthur’s gaze raked Merlin from head to toe. “Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur’s voice was rough with anger and some other emotion Merlin couldn’t identify. 

“I was handling it,” Merlin said stiffly, even though he felt himself slumping into the wall in relief. 

“Yeah, you were gonna hold those two thugs off all by yourself, all buck thirty-five of you,” Arthur scoffed. “You are such an idiot!” 

But Arthur’s dismissive words were in contrast to his actions. He reached out and wrapped his hand around Merlin’s upper arm. With the warm touch all the stress and fear of thinking he was going to end up bleeding on the dirty locker room floor hit Merlin at once. 

“You’re shaking!” Arthur exclaimed, and pulled Merlin into his arms. 

The shaking subsided as Merlin leaned into the embrace, thinking how good it felt to have a man’s arms around him for the first time. 

Later he could not figure out what prompted him to do it, considering that he and Arthur hated each other, but he pulled Arthur’s head down and awkwardly swiped his lips across the other man’s mouth. 

Horror-stricken at what he had done, and worried that he was going to be beaten up after all, Merlin tried to pull away. 

But Arthur’s grip tightened and he crowded Merlin into the same corner he had been backed into earlier. 

“You looked so hot, defying those guys. You had your chin up and your eyes flashing, even though you didn’t stand a chance,” Arthur murmured into his ear. “Made me wanna do filthy things to you.” 

“Wha- what kind of filthy things?” Merlin stammered, not believing his ears, or his luck. Could the undisputed leader of the Avalon High School Knights be gay? 

It flashed through his mind that this was a trick, that Arthur might just be jerking him around, but despite their prickly relationship he knew Arthur had a reputation as a good guy. 

His fears were alleviated when Arthur answered teasingly, “Well, we’d start out slow, you being a virgin and all…” 

Merlin blushed to the roots of his hair. “You don’t know that!” 

Arthur chuckled. “Babe, I know.” Merlin squirmed and Arthur slid his hand up under Merlin’s shirt, pulling him closer. 

“So, after I’d gotten you used to having your cock touched and you could keep from blowing your wad in twenty seconds flat, I’d teach you about blow jobs. We’d start with me sucking you, so you can learn a few tricks.” 

Merlin looked down, embarrassed, but Arthur lifted his chin with two gentle fingers and said, “Little beauty, look at me when I tell you how I am going to take you apart.” 

Merlin bravely raised his eyes, and his prick hardened in his jeans. He saw only affection and desire on Arthur’s face, so he let Arthur unbutton his jeans and take his swollen cock in his big calloused hand. 

“Later on I’d teach you about fucking, find out if you like to top or bottom,” Arthur said, fisting Merlin in a way that really was going to have him coming pathetically soon. 

Arthur leaned in closer, and said into Merlin’s ear, “I’ll have you begging for it twice a day.” 

Merlin cried out and came in Arthur’s hand. 

* * *

**40.**

**Pairing:** Mordred/Percival  
 **Warnings: This is more of a note rather than a warning, but Mordred is agender (dfab); does it count as public sex if the pub is locked and they’re the only ones left in it? :D**

“Why did you decide to wear a dress?” Percy asked.

“It’s pretty.” Mordred shrugged. “I’d wear skirts more often, but my thighs are thicker so I always need to have something underneath. It’s too much of a bother sometimes.”

Percy looked down at where Mordred was seated halfway onto his lap. “Are those tights?” he asked quietly, his hand caressing the soft fabric above Mordred’s knee where the dress had ridden up.

“Stockings. They’re more like socks,” he explained when Percy didn’t reply.

Percy hummed. He didn’t look up when his fingers slipped further up and under the hem they found. “So you won’t have to take them off.”

“Fuck, Percy.” Mordred squirmed and looked around to make sure there was no one else left in the pub. “Everything’s locked up?” 

Percy made a noise of confirmation. “Wanna eat you out,” he whispered against his ear. Mordred felt a single finger brush over his underwear only for a second. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” Percy groaned. Mordred whimpered when Percy gently bit on his throat and sucked, more fingers joining the first and massaging Mordred’s clit over his underwear. 

“Been wet since I saw you tonight,” Mordred admitted. He groaned and gently pushed Percy’s hand away, then shifted until he was straddling him. “This sneaking around thing is getting kind of tiresome.”

Percy gave him a worried look. “Is it?”

Mordred sighed. “It _is_ kind of hot.” He smirked as he slid his hands up Percy’s chest. “But I’ve wanted to kiss you all night and I couldn’t with everyone else around.”

“You can kiss me now,” Percy said. Mordred chuckled and did just that. Percy pulled him closer and moaned into it. “I’m so glad Gwaine decided to bail and leave me to clean up,” he whispered in-between kisses.

Mordred laughed. “Some cleaning we’re gonna do.” He lifted the skirt until he could grind down on Percy and _feel_ it, but then he realised why that was a bad idea. He made to pull away, but Percival kept him in place with his hands on Mordred’s waist. “Baby, I’m gonna get you wet,” Mordred whispered, mortified almost. Percy just groaned again and pulled him down. Mordred whimpered and guided Percival’s lips to his neck, rode him through the rough denim of his jeans. He wanted to rip them off, take Percy’s cock and—

Percy held him tight and lifted him up, then promptly set him on the table behind. Mordred moaned when he felt Percy’s hands slide underneath his dress; Mordred had no idea when that had become a _thing_ for him but the sheer fucking _strength_ Percy possessed was enough to leave him a mess. He moaned and returned every rough kiss of Percy’s, his own hands struggling between getting Percy out of his shirt and keeping every inch of him as close to Mordred as possible.

“Fuck,” Mordred whispered. “Fuck, _please._ ”

“Can I?” Percy asked quietly.

“Fuck me?” 

“Well…” Percy said. One of his hands slipped to the front of Mordred’s panties and he bit on Mordred’s ear, letting out a soft moan. 

Mordred thought he could ride Percy’s hand to completion then and there, but he somehow managed to nod frantically and pull off his underwear with Percy’s help. He thought he’d twist around to the edge of the table that pointed outside of the booth, but instead Percy just sat back on the bench and looked up at him. Mordred whimpered and slid further, then toed off his shoes and let his legs frame Percy as he searched for stability. Percy glanced up at Mordred before he lifted up the dress, then settled between his thighs. 

Mordred had no idea whether Percy had done this before, but he didn’t seem to bring a single bit of his usual shyness into it. Mordred could hear his groans under his own, and he reveled in the way Percy pushed against him and held him down whenever Mordred threatened to slip away.

When he pushed past Mordred’s lips and licked inside, Mordred couldn’t help but place a hand on Percy’s head and hold him in place for a moment. When Percy replied by moaning and raising a hand to place upon Mordred’s and push down, Mordred whimpered and raised his hips once. It was easy to set a rhythm then, fuck Percy’s face until he came moaning his name.

Sneaking around was definitely worth it, Mordred decided as he licked his taste off Percy’s lips.

* * *

**41.**

**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Minor character death.

The day Arsur was born, two out of their three suns shone a warm hello, and rainbows danced over the water.

Arsur tried reaching out to them, but they jumped merrily out of his way. Arthur watched them in awe; waved at them instead.

*

The first time he saw flowers, he bounced a little; and he couldn’t quite suppress a yell of excitement every time he found a beautifully coloured rock. He loved the ocean most of all, when he wasn’t cross with it for tossing him about quite rudely.

One day, when he was old enough, his father told him the rainbows had been dancing in grief, for his mother, who had died so he could live, and his pile of rocks became his mother’s grave, at the bottom of the ocean, where the suns would never reach her again.

*

The universe held many secrets, they told him; he trained and trained so he might be allowed to reach out to them.

Perhaps this was the reason for his strange dreams. But then, perhaps the universe could bring his mother back.

*

The spaceship was floating aimlessly, far from any inhabited world, and Arsur’s crew was on high alert.

The ship was filled with the strangest creatures, yet they seemed familiar, somehow.

“Bloopedibloop,” Arsur said, politely.

Somewhere to the left, someone let out a high-pitched scream; there was a bang, and something small and hard bounced painfully off Arsur’s head. Arsur kept his cool and corrected his greeting faux-pas. 

He shrieked and threw the piece of metal back.

“ _Ow_ ,” said the creature, which must be some form of thank you.

Another one approached, his eyes a strange play of golden colours, fire held in his hand.

Arsur carefully wrapped a tentacle around it; it was very hot, but diplomacy was key. He did not want to offend by refusing the offered gift.

“ _Ow_ ,” he said, solemn.

“I. Well. That,” said the creature, and Arsur lost patience with this nonsense. He slapped out the fire and shoved a tentacle into the creature’s mouth; read all the words off the back of its tongue, soaked in their meaning.

“Ewww,” said the creature.

“You look funny,” Arsur said, to break the ice.

“… You have tentacles!

“And you have… _those_ ,” Arthur said, gesturing at the strange limbs, trying to return the compliment. 

It was a long day.

*

Arsur recognised the planet when Merlin pointed it out on the display. It turned out ewmans looked a little different than his teachers had observed from afar (large, rocky, and fond of swimming).

“The ozone layer’s gone,” Merlin said. “There is nowhere we can go for food. I tried to push this one ship further out with magic, hoping we could return with good news, but…”

His father’s puckers quivered with anger when he discovered Arsur wanted to use their precious fuel to retrieve the other ewmans and settle them on a nearby planet. Arsur’s neck feathers rose; he would not abandon an entire species.

“I – thank you,” said Merlin, later. “I can’t believe I thought you were going to kill us. I almost killed _you_.”

Arsur’s tentacles shook with amusement. “Yes, you’ve found my weakness. Small fires.”

“Shut up. I can do more than small fires.”

He could. He could make large fires and rainbows with his hands and make them dance and he would laugh with joy. He’d let Arsur touch them. They did not taste like grief. 

Merlin’s eyes shimmered with blue and gold, and Arsur found it hard to look away. “I think I dreamed you up,” he said once, by accident, when the tiniest rainbow was jumping from one pucker to the next, then had to explain about his strange visions.

“Oh,” said Merlin. “ _Oh_. When Albion’s need is greatest… Oh, god.” He looked at Arsur as though he was seeing him for the first time; he looked stricken, then promptly doubled over with laughter. 

“I fail to see the humour,” Arsur said, stung.

“No, no,” Merlin hiccupped, “look at you. You’re beautiful. Alive.” Tears of laughter clung to his face as he bent over, pressed his lips to one of Arsur’s puckers; then the next. Something zinged inside of Arsur. He thought Merlin murmured, “I missed you,” but he was too busy shaking as Merlin touched him everywhere, with his hands and his mouth and his magic. 

“OK, that’s… surprisingly great,” Merlin said, when Arsur wrapped a tentacle around his cock.

Arsur saw rainbows when he came, and Merlin, and felt joy dance around his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**42.**  
**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None

Arthur bets two hundred Zafridian dollars that a couple of swigs of Klingon ale will render Merlin legless. Merlin moots the bet by turning off gravity. They get smashed and now they're gonna fuck. Just as soon as they figure out how.

* * *

**43.**  
**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur  
**Warnings:** None!

Being back in Ealdor makes Merlin feel eighteen again, but it's the beer and old mix tapes that make him bold enough to get this handsy behind the shed.

* * *

**44.**  
**Pairing(s):** Morgana/Gwen  
**Warnings:** spanking

There's nothing wrong with spending the holidays with your gal pal, right?

* * *

**45.**  
**Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:**

Crimson Raider Emrys never has trouble turning in prisoners for bounty - until he meets Hyperion escapee Arthur Pendragon.

* * *

**46.**  
**Pairing(s):** Merlin/Arthur/Gwaine/Percival  
**Warnings:** None

Still loads of detail that need to be added :( But enjoy the view so far. I chose Canon, Drunk (the potion is an aphrodisiac, so they're drunk with lust :P) and Dubcon

* * *

**47.**  
Pairing(s): Merthur  
Warnings: Corporal Punishment

* * *

**48.**  
**Pairing:** (Arthur/)Gwen/Lancelot  
**Warnings:** none

Voyeurism&Kidnapping IN SPAAAACEEEEE

* * *

**49.**  
**Pairing(s):** Sophia/Vivian  
**Warnings:** possible dub-con/non-con though Vivian's totally into it

Naiad Sophia likes to kidnap young maidens who come to bathe in her lake and have her wicked way with them.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**1.**

The village at the end of the dirt road was small. It didn't have many luxuries but it did have a general goods store and an inn. 

Tending to the Inn every Tuesday-Friday evening was a lovely girl named Gwen. Sitting at the bar most of these nights, was Morgana Pendragon. 

Morgana Pendragon was a respectable woman with a mean streak five miles wide. She could shoot a bandit, with a gun he didn't even know she had, before he could blink twice in the direction of someone else's gold. 

Now, Morgana was fiercely protective of Gwen. Every now and again there would be a stranger coming through town thinking that he'd like to try and take her upstairs and get with her. If she said no and they persisted well, Morgana took care of that. 

One of these times, a gambler named Helios came through town. He was suave with honeyed words and almost convinced Gwen to drink with him before she caught that his intentions were less than honorable. When she rejected him, he became violent and Morgana stepped in with a colt pointed at his forehead before he knew what hit him. 

He had backed down and proposed a wager. A game of dice. She won, she got to take Gwen to her room. He won, he got to spend the night with Morgana. Morgana accepted to wager easily, he wouldn't survive the night if he won anyways, and Gwen would be upset at her if she killed someone in the Inn. It was bad for business. 

They were both surprised when she won spectacularly. Helios laughed, saying something about the dice showing true intentions, and ushered Morgana to take Gwen upstairs to where she was staying. Gwen, thoroughly amused by this chain of events followed her, giggling. 

"Ohhh what are you going to do with me Morgana?" She joked, flopping down on Morgana's bed. Morgana met her gaze and leaned over her, kissing her mouth. Gwen surprisedly reciprocated. 

Soon, Morgana had Gwen's petticoat lifted over her head and was kissing the inside of her thighs. Gwen was shaking all over and felt the wetness between her legs. The feeling was foreign to her. She had never been touched in this way before. Morgana licked at her folds and swirled around her clit until Gwen was bursting at the seams for release. Morgana pressed a finger inside of her and pumped it in and out, flicking her tongue on Gwen's clit. Soon she drew Gwen's orgasm out of her with a startled cry. Morgana could feel her cunt convulsing with pleasure. 

"I'll always protect you, Gwen," Morgana whispered into her thigh. 

But, as things would turn out, she wouldn't.

* * *

**2.**

'It certainly feels fresh in here,' says Morgana, sweeping into her chambers with a swirl of skirts. Gwen, hot and uncomfortable in her stifling skirts despite the open windows, does her best to smile.

'Glad you like it,' she says. She's changed the sheets, washed the floors, and she's proud of her work. But it's just _too hot_ in here. Morgana, of course, looks as lovely as ever, poised, perfect, desirable - 

Morgana stills suddenly, and a sharp look crosses her face. 'Gwen,' she says, 'Are you feeling alright?'

Gwen isn't, no. She … she _wants_ , restlessly, but she can't put a name to what it is that she wants. 'I'm … fine, I just. It's very hot today, don't you think?'

Morgana reaches out,, as if she's going to touch Gwen's cheek. 'Sweetling, it's the first day of spring.' Her gaze is making Gwen shiver with heat, and a tingling between her legs that's mortifying. 'You don't know,' Morgana breathes. 'Gwen, beautiful, you're in your heat. You - ' and Morgana takes a step back. 'Tell me that you have an alpha, someone you're seeing in the village? Someone to look after you.'

But Gwen doesn't - her duties in the palace and at home mean she doesn't have time for the alphas that come by the forge occasionally, no matter how good they smell, or how kind they are. She shakes her head. 'I didn't think it would … be so soon.' She'd thought she had years still before this moment. And now … 

'Shhh, listen to me,' says Morgana intently. 'Gwen? Darling, I can help you. Do you hear me? I can help you through your heat. But you have to agree.'

Gwen blinks, until she can see Morgana's face clearly. Her life has been filled with Morgana since Uther Pendragon stalked into Gwen's father's forge and hired her as maid and companion for his teenage ward. But this? Morgana's a lady, and Gwen's just -

'- the person I love most in the world,' Morgana interrupts. 'Let me help you.'

Gwen takes a shaking step and reaches for her mistress. 'You shouldn't.'

'I want to,' says Morgana, folding Gwen into her arms. 

***

Morgana's nails scratch gentle and sharp on Gwen's thighs, where's she's a mess, embarrassingly wet, but Morgana never takes no for an answer, not when she has a quest. 'Be still, sweet,' she breathes, the warmth of her breath tickling Gwen's skin. 'You're being such a good girl for me.'

Gwen's eyes scrunch shut as a wave of feeling wracks her, and her knees stop fighting Morgana's weight between her. 'That's it, you're perfect,' Morgana croons, bending to kiss Gwen right where she's slick. 

Gwen doesn't feel perfect. She's burning up with the worst fever she's ever had, like ants crawling over her skin except the cool-silk feeling where Morgana touches her. Morgana sits up, licking her lips - Gwen cries out. 'Hush, love,' Morgana whispers, leaning up and loosening her bodice. 'Just let me. You're so good for me.' 

The caress of Morgana's palm over Gwen's taut nipple is such a sweet relief. When Morgana kisses it, the wetness between Gwen's legs feels like an ocean. 

'Are you ready for me to knot you?'

_'Please.'_

Morgana presses in, tight, satisfying, until their bellies press together. 'That's it,' she murmurs. She runs her fingers through Gwen's mussed hair, moves her hips. The places they rub together make something light up to the tips of Gwen's fingers. 'That's it, love. That's it.'

'It hurts,' Gwen moans, because it does, the fever is ripping into her now. The only place she feels unbruised and unburnt is where their bodies join. 

'I know, sweetling. I'll make it stop, I swear,' Morgana says, sounding as desperate as Gwen feels, as she fucks deeper into Gwen's hungry body. 'Please, darling, just stay with me,'

'Not … going anywhere,' Gwen pants, hooking her legs around Morgana's hips, trying to pull her in deeper, to quell the need. 

Morgana's eyes shudder closed. Inside Gwen she swells all of a sudden, locking them together, and the dripping wetness between them is an ocean that Gwen crests on a wave, no longer burning with fever but sated, satisfied, with them tied together.

'Perfect,' Morgana breathes.

* * *

**3.**

“I hate her,” Vivian says earnestly. “Sort of a lot.”

Leon makes an agreeable noise and hands another pint across the bar. “You mentioned that a couple of times.”

She sniffs. “Well, it is _still true_.” Her vision is sort of bleary at this point, but she scowls in the general direction of Morgana Fucking Pendragon anyway. She hated her enough in high school, and now she's a fucking rock star and back in Camelot for a month in between tours to lord her fame over the town and really, it's terrible.

Morgana Fucking Pendragon is still really fucking gorgeous, Vivian decides when she manages to catch Morgana's eye and Morgana smirks and toasts her. That is also terrible.

“I really hate her.”

Leon sighs. “Sure.”

*

It's less than a week before Morgana is kissing her in the back room at the pub, mouth hot against Vivian's, tasting more of mint than of beer. Vivian should be more surprised than she is that they've ended up here.

“I hate this fucking town,” says Morgana, almost conversational. “Never thought you of all people would stay here, but at least you're something to do.”

Vivian bites her neck, and Morgana fights back, grabs for Vivian's wrists and presses her against the wall. “God, you're a bitch, always have been.”

“But here you are, spreading your legs for me.”

That's an idea. Vivian grapples her arms free until she can get leverage to put her legs around Morgana's waist, skirt rucking up until the thin silk of her panties is pressing up against the button on Morgana's jeans. Morgana is model-skinny, but she takes the weight, presses Vivian into the wall so she's pinned like a butterfly, grinds up against her. Vivian bites her again.

“You're such a fucking brat,” Morgana says, through a moan.

Vivian looks up through her lashes. “What are you going to do about it?”

*

Morgana's bedroom is still a teenager's, walls covered in band posters, bookshelf full of school books, a dusty radio in one corner, a deep purple comforter.

Vivian is clutching the comforter now, eyes on her own white knuckles. She's turned over Morgana's bony lap, pressing down against her thigh, not sure if she wants to grind against it or not.

The first slap is barely a sting, and it startles a laugh out of her. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

The next one is harder. Vivian flinches from it, and it's not going to matter if she wants to grind against Morgana or not, because automatic reaction from the pain will do it for her. “Harder,” she says, because if she can't resist, she'll take everything she can.

“Greedy.” Morgana hits her again, hard enough that the sound of the slap echoes before Vivian even registers the pain.

“Come on, _more_.”

“Brat,” says Morgana, and spanks her again, so hard that she cries out, glad the Pendragon house is musty and shut-up, just a vacation home now. No one needs to hear this.

“Again,” Vivian demands, over and over, until her skin his hot and sore where Morgana has been spanking her and her cunt is dripping, the skin of Morgana's thigh slick and shiny where she's been rubbing against it.

Morgana dumps her on her back, ignoring the affronted noise Vivian makes when the comforter rubs against her ass, strangely rough when her skin is so sore, and parts Vivian's thighs to settle between them. “You like that,” she says with a red-lipped smirk.

“As if I'd let you do it to me if I didn't,” says Vivian, and pulls Morgana's mouth down to hers to smudge all that perfect lipstick.

*

“Coming with me tonight?” Morgana whispers, arm sliding around Vivian's waist. “We've only got a week left to have fun, and I packed my strap-on just in case.”

Vivian shrugs her off, because Leon is watching, his eyebrows raised. Even if he can't hear what Morgana is saying, he's got to assume. It's hard to keep secrets in Camelot. “Fuck off.”

“I'll take that as a yes, then,” says Morgana, and wanders off again to charm the locals until Vivian is ready to go.

“Still hate her?” Leon asks, topping up her pint.

Vivian has a bright bruise just under the neckline of her blouse, and she's sore and sensitive from how long Morgana went down on her last night, looking up at her dark-eyed and wicked the whole time. “Passionately.”

* * *

**4.**

"The general from Rome has arrived." 

"Has he sent for me? I can't imagine the physician is the first person he wants to see in an army camp."

"There was a raid on the way to camp. Quite a few deaths, more injuries, and the general--"

"Tell them I'm coming. Wait--Elyan! Who did they send?" 

But Elyan is already gone, and Merlin can't help the sound of frustration that escapes. Three weeks of rain, at least two raids, and a collapsed bridge over the stream behind the camp, now this. 

If he hadn’t wanted to leave Rome so desperately fifteen years ago, and if some of that desperation still didn't cling to his heart, Merlin would be ready to leave this last raw edge of the empire behind. 

\- - 

"You're lucky. You've quite a few bruises and lacerations, but none of them serious." Merlin wills his hands to stay still and steady as he smoothes the bandages over the general's chest. 

The man nods. He'd commanded Merlin to see to his men first, though he'd been weak from blood loss. When Merlin finishes, he gives him a long, serious look and says in a sad voice, "Do you not remember me, Merlin?"

The thing that Merlin has held taught inside himself for the past few hours--god, for the past fifteen years--suddenly trembles. Merlin clasps his hands behind his back to stop them from shaking. "I do. But we were just boys, then. You should get some rest." 

He tells his assistant to give the general wine and food; he leaves before anyone can ask him any more questions.

\- - - - 

A week of more rain, of the autumn chill that creeps between the chinks in the walls of the barracks, passes before Arthur visits Merlin's private room. 

"Can I come in?" 

"You're the commander here," Merlin says, then regrets the words when Arthur hovers on the threshold. "Of course you can."

He's clad only in his tunic and sandals, more than a few of the cuts and bruises he received in the raid still visible. He waits for Merlin to put aside the wax tablets he's writing in, and sits next to him on the bed.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Arthur says, and continues before Merlin can reply, "And that I'd forget your smile, and your voice. I haven't." 

Merlin touches Arthur's wrist, then lets his fingers slide between Arthur's. They'd fought, violently and viciously as the young do, and Merlin finds he cannot bear to let himself remember that. 

"When I left--"

"Don't, please," Arthur murmurs. He looks down at their entwined hands, then slips his from Merlin's to touch Merlin's face. "We were only boys then, as you said. But now--"

"You are unchanged," Merlin says, "in all the ways that matter." He leans into Arthur's touch, and leans forward to press his lips to Arthur's. 

And Arthur is unchanged--he is still recklessly brave and generous, and the years have not taken the softness that appears in his eyes during quiet moments like this. He exhales shakily, moves away from the kiss, then rests his forehead against Merlin's. 

There's always been something about Arthur, something small and hidden and delicate, that strikes Merlin right in his heart. Arthur keeps his vulnerabilities locked inside, unspoken, but Merlin can still find them. 

He kisses Arthur again, lightly on the lips, then turns to whisper something soft and wordless against his ear, following it with more kisses and a murmured 'I missed you so.'

It's the little ragged sound that Arthur makes, the breath that catches in his chest and that he releases with a choking sob, that unravels all of Merlin's control. Arthur's eyes are a little damp, and his breath is uneven, and Merlin cannot help but touch Arthur's face, the curve of his neck, the warm place where Merlin can feel the flutter of his heartbeat. He brushes the tear from the corner of Arthur's eye with his thumb, kisses his parted lips.

Desire rushes through Merlin, hot and unexpected, and he draws Arthur closer to him. As close as he can, until they are both hard and struggling for breath, stretched out on Merlin's narrow bed. He brings Arthur off first, wanting a new memory to carry with him should they be parted again.

* * *

**5.**

Arthur woke to the sun streaming through the windows and an empty chamber that meant that Merlin was late. Again. Pushing himself out of bed, Arthur collared a servant passing in the corridor to dress him and fetch breakfast. By the time he’d finished there was still no sign of Merlin and Arthur’s patience was wearing thin. 

Trying to remember why he kept Merlin around, Arthur headed out in search of him. This afternoon, Arthur was supposed to be training with the knights. Maybe a couple of hours holding the target during practise would help teach Merlin a thing or two. Arthur grinned at the thought. And if he had some fun too, well that was just a bonus.

He was headed down the stairs towards Gaius’s chambers when he was taken. Something wrapped around his waist and yanked him backwards. Arthur’s hand reached for his sword; which was still in the armoury because the King of Camelot did not expect to be attacked in his own castle without warning. He tried to call for aid, but before he had the chance, something wet clamped down over his mouth. Arthur struggled against his assailant but was unable to dislodge the grip as he was pulled backwards until the world turned white.

Arthur had never seen anything like this place. It was just a white haze as far as he could see. All except for a familiar figure lying crumpled in a heap in front of him. Arthur screamed for Merlin through the attacker’s firm grip and renewed his attempts to get free. 

He was dropped unceremoniously on the floor and the attacker disappeared from view. Not wasting any time, Arthur scrambled to Merlin’s side. There was blood seeping from a cut on his temple but Arthur couldn’t see any other obvious injuries. Arthur shook his shoulder. “Merlin? Merlin, answer me.”

Merlin groaned. “Arthur, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for a new manservant. My current one is always late.” Arthur pulled Merlin into a sitting position. 

“Won’t happen again.” Merlin coughed. “Would you believe it if I told you I had a good excuse?” 

“The tavern is not a good excuse, Merlin. C’mon.” Arthur helped Merlin to his feet and looked around them for any means of escape.

As Arthur was deliberating which way into the white to try first, their kidnapper returned and Arthur got his first look at the creature. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen; comprised mostly of long, purple tentacles that were encroaching on them again.

Arthur tried to retreat but the tentacles were too fast and two of the tentacles wrapped themselves around them and pulled Arthur and Merlin up against each other. The tentacles kept coming and Arthur felt one slip beneath his breeches. He renewed his struggles but it was no use and the tentacle pushed inside him. 

The sensation wasn’t as Arthur expected. He’d braced himself for pain, but the tentacle was warm and comforting. More than that, it started to move and Arthur felt his body begin to respond. From Merlin’s surprised gasp, Arthur knew he wasn’t the only one. 

He wanted to keep fighting, but the feeling was too good. Arthur couldn’t concentrate on anything except the tentacle that was slowly working inside of him. 

“Arthur.” Merlin let out a groan of pleasure and clung to him. Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin and gave himself over to the tentacles. Deep inside, a voice was telling him that this was wrong, that it had to be the result of sorcery but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Another tentacle wrapped itself around his dick, an all encompassing heat and Arthur bit down on Merlin’s shoulder to keep quiet. He slid his hands underneath Merlin’s shirt to the soft skin there. The feel of Merlin under his fingers combined with the workings of the tentacled creature pushed Arthur to completion. Merlin came with him and they sagged against each other, only the strength of the tentacles holding them up. With no idea what was going to happen to them, Arthur took a chance and pressed his lips to Merlin’s. 

 

The next thing he knew they had landed in a heap on the stairs outside physician’s chambers. The door opened and Gaius appeared, looking them both up and down with a raised eyebrow. 

Gaius just held up a hand. “When you’re quite finished with Merlin, Sire, may I borrow him to run some errands?”

* * *

**6.**

The nice thing about Vivian is she doesn’t look like a stray. 

“She’s a handful,” Trickler admits, showing Arthur to her viewing window. “But nothing the tagging won’t fix.” 

“She’s perfect,” Arthur says. 

“Excellent.” Trickler rubs his hands together. “You have what I need? It’s gotta be fresh.” 

“Right here,” Arthur says, handing him a sealed vial of his semen. Trickler shakes it, waggling his eyebrows, then disappears into Vivian’s pen. Twenty minutes later, Arthur’s helping her into his car.

**+**

Just as suspected, Vivian cleans up beautifully. Washed and dried, fitted in couture, she looks like a corporate princess. She hasn’t spoken, and at dinner she pushes carrots around on her plate for twenty minutes before Arthur sits back from his meal.

“Hungry?” he asks. She jerks her head ‘no’. “Thirsty?” 

She goes still aside from the slightest curling of her lip. 

Finally, she gives a single nod. Arthur’s pulse jumps. He pushes back from the table, watching her as he slowly unzips his trousers. She struggles silently for another obvious moment before coming to settle between his knees.

**+**

“How does it work?” Arthur asks.

“It’s fascinating stuff. Lots of gibberish our techs love to natter about, but on the most basic level, humans are computers. We’ve just learned how to hack them.” Trickler shrugs.

**+**

Arthur wakes to a hot mouth around his dick and startles a bit before he remembers. He settles back into his pillows with a smile and lets Vivian work, rumbling an appreciative sound when she fucks him deep into her throat.

“S’good,” he says, rolling his hips. 

She’s not coy about it, and his orgasm rushes up on him fast. He considers holding off, but what would be the point? 

He doesn’t warn her, just finishes with a happy groan and tucks his hands behind his head to enjoy her cleaning him up with her tongue.

**+**

“Are there side effects? Other things I should know about?”

“No side effects that we know of, but standard disclaimers apply. Everyone’s biology is unique, after all.” Trickler passes him a stack of papers to sign. “We do warn that prolonged withdrawal can make them a touch nutty, but I think a bit of a wait makes them more fun.”

**+**

He gets his prick out quietly the afternoon he finds her napping on the windowseat, careful not to wake her as he flips her skirt up. It doesn’t take much stroking to draw a bead of precome to his cockhead, and he smears it along her slit just to watch her go plump and flush at the touch of fluid.

He sinks into her like a dream and she’s not even fully awake. Her body welcomes him in spite of the way she groans and starts to tense. 

“Shhh kitten,” he soothes, sliding deep. “Almost done.”

**+**

“Oh, you’ll want these,” Trickler says, handing him a pack of what look like condoms. Arthur’s face must show his confusion, because Trickler giggles. “Proprietary design, free with your first purchase. Be conservative with them though, because you’ll have to pre-order from here on out.”

**+**

Vivian is on him the minute he walks through the door. He’s only been gone a week, but her desperation is obvious, almost frenzied. He holds her off until they get into his bedroom but once he’s hit the bed it’s barely a minute before she’s riding him fast and hard.

He holds her hips and lets her go, her cunt sucking wet and hot around his shaft. She steadies herself on his chest, needy little mewls squeaking past her control. Arthur groans laughingly when he realises she’s paid attention to what he likes, combining tricks in an effort to get him to come as fast as she can. 

It’s working, in spite of the preparatory wank he had in the car on his way back from the airport. 

She works him until Arthur tightens his hands on her hips and holds her down, and the look of relief on her face is beatific while he grunts and shudders. Then her eyes widen, horrified. 

Arthur topples her off his lap and rolls off the condom, impressed at the engineering that made it look and feel nonexistent. 

Vivian lunges for it too late; it hits Arthur’s incinerator before she can get past him. 

He laughs, restraining her. “Calm down. Give it a few more hours, you’ll get what you want,” he promises, drawing her in tighter against him. “And so will I,” he adds, trailing his thumb into the crack of her arse. 

Vivian whimpers, shivering.

* * *

**7.**

Plugged

Arthur hoped to bed Merlin someday, lavishing him with soft touches and whispering sweet words into his adorable ears. The manservant who Uther had assigned to him was pretty to look at and charming in every way. Although Arthur found Merlin alluring, he never once thought of taking him, imposing his royal privilege on the gangly boy from Ealdor. Arthur thought they would have plenty of time to get to know each other, as servant and prince, before Arthur made his move. He never dreamed it would come to this.

“Why do you think I made him your manservant?” Uther shouted.

Arthur bit his tongue.

With a crowd of Uther’s councillors looking on, Merlin stood with his palms pressed against the high table in the great hall. His trousers had been stripped away and a pair of Uther’s henchmen held his legs apart. The pale skin of his buttocks caught the candlelight. And when Uther spread Merlin’s arse cheeks wide, the dimple of his opening was invisible to all but the closest onlookers.

“Father,” Arthur complained. “There’s no need for such barbarity!”

Uther simply turned to Arthur and glared, saying, “I can’t believe he’s been with you for six months, and the boy is still left untried.”

It was futile for Arthur to complain about the spectacle that played out in the great hall. Uther had a reputation to uphold. Arthur knew Uther would never bow to his son’s wishes to leave Merlin alone, no matter how much he protested.

Uther turned his attention back to Merlin. He circled a gloved finger around Merlin’s hole while the councillors murmured their approval. Not one of them moved to stop Uther. Arthur would remember well their failure to take action when a member of the royal household suffered at the king’s hand.

Arthur would be king one day and he vowed that such depravity would cease with his reign.

“Bring the oil,” Uther called, and a servant provided him with a bowl.

Arthur fought to restrain himself. The heat rose to his cheeks at the sight of Merlin’s nakedness. Arthur could tell by Merlin’s shuddering shoulders that he was sobbing.

Uther rucked Merlin’s tunic up above his waist and stripped off a glove with his teeth. With drenched fingers, Uther explored Merlin’s tiny hole in front of the court. He slipped a finger inside the boy when he deemed that he had been suitably stretched.

Arthur heard Merlin’s intake of panicked breath at the intrusion. He cringed to think that Merlin’s first experience with sex was to have Uther abuse him.

 

Uther plunged his fingers in and out of Merlin’s squelching hole. The guards manhandled Merlin roughly when he tried to wriggle free.

Satisfied with his work, Uther stepped back and motioned to a serving boy. 

The servant produced a heavy plug, fashioned from metal and gilded with pure gold. Arthur could think of better uses for the realm’s riches.

Merlin’s thighs quivered when Uther traced his hole with the plug, working him open by tiny increments until finally, Uther seated the plug inside him.

Merlin settled uncomfortably, his bare feet flat on the cold stone floor.

Uther stepped back and admired the golden flare that emerged from Merlin’s arse.

“If you find him so displeasing that you won’t use him to catch your royal seed until you’re wed, I’ll hang him in the morning and find you another,” Uther said.

Arthur froze. He couldn’t let his father put Merlin to death.

The smack of a hand on a buttock rang through the great hall.

Arthur cringed as Uther’s hand struck Merlin’s arse again, turning the skin pink. Merlin’s cock had grown hard as he whimpered in time with the sharp slaps. A thin strand of clear fluid dripped from its tip.

“He likes it, Arthur,” Uther said. “You should have no trouble using him as I intended.”

Arthur choked back a gasp. “I’ll take care of it, Sire,” he said. “You can stop!”

Uther made one final sweep of the hall, making sure each councillor watched him. He grasped the flared part of the plug that protruded from Merlin’s arse and gave it a thump that made Merlin come in spurts, coating the table where he stood.

Uther turned his attention from Merlin’s arse to his son and said, “See that you do.”

Arthur rushed forward, throwing off his cloak. He swathed Merlin in the red fabric and ushered him off to his bedchamber, promising that he’d never let Uther hurt him again.

* * *

**8.**

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Morgana asks him over eggs Benedict.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “That’s not a very neutral way of putting it.”

“How would you say it, then?”

“I’d say it’s just happening more frequently,” Arthur replies. “If you say ‘getting worse’ you make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Is it happening now?”

“…Yes,” Arthur says after a beat. His little London flat is silent, but he can hear the steady beat of the music, feel the bass thumping in his chest, see the multicolored flashing lights in his peripheral vision. Everything smells a little like sweat and alcohol, and—

—

Merlin sits at the bar with Will, the blaring club music so loud he has to fight the urge to cover his ears. Behind them, bodies are dancing in a sea of colors and light. It’s Friday night, and Osaka’s biggest nightclub is completely packed.

“You did the whole job interview in English?” Will is saying, looking impressed. “You’re too good at this English thing.”

“Unlike someone I know, I actually paid attention in English class,” Merlin says.

Will snorts. “That’s a lie,” he says, and then signals the bartender to refill their shot glasses. “You don’t pay attention—you’re just….”

Will trails off, and Merlin nods, because how does he explain that learning English felt like remembering something he already knew, like riding a bike or singing song lyrics? How can he explain this, when he he’s lived in Japan his whole life? 

“It’s that _thing_.” Will says eventually. “Your weird thing.”

“Yeah,” Merlin agrees and knocks back the shot. It tastes like eggs and hollandaise. 

—

_When Arthur was six, he’d wake up some mornings speaking only Japanese. It terrified his parents so badly that they sent him to a child therapist._

_There was nothing wrong with Arthur, of course. The therapist told his parents it was just a phase he would grow out of. When Arthur was eight, it didn’t happen anymore—or at least, not that his parents could see._

—

When Merlin gets back that night, he goes straight to the bathroom and stands in front of the mirror. He stares at his reflection in his empty apartment, and then, feeling a little foolish, says, “Arthur?” 

There’s a pause, and—

It’s bright in Arthur’s flat. Daytime. Arthur’s reflection stares back at him and he’s grinning. Merlin likes that grin, more than he should admit.

“Merlin?” says Arthur.

“I think it’s getting harder to control it,” Merlin says. “Harder to keep everything… separate.”

“Yeah, Arthur agrees, then switches to Japanese. “Things keep….”

“Leaking over?” Merlin supplies.

Arthur nods before putting on an expression of mock seriousness. “It’s obviously all your fault.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not an idiot,” Merlin retorts. It’s easy, this banter. Comfortable.

—

_When Merlin was five, he used to tell his parents it was raining. He’d run outside on tiny feet on the driest day of the year and scream with joy as he watched imaginary raindrops and jumped in puddles that weren’t there. His parents thought it was just a game Merlin liked to play._

—

Arthur feels turned on and he’s not sure why. He shut the blinds and is halfway through a fervent wank when he’s suddenly in Merlin’s apartment lying on blue sheets and watching Merlin’s hand slide up and down Merlin’s stiff red cock.

Arthur’s been dreaming about this since he was 14, but they’ve always been good about privacy. Things are changing now, though. He can’t control it, he can’t—

“Sorry,” Arthur says as soon as he can speak. He pushes away, goes back to London, shuts his eyes tightly and goes to take a cold shower.

He’s just turned on the water when he hears Merlin say, quietly, “You can stay, if you want.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asks.

“You can stay,” Merlin says, “and watch.”

And Arthur’s back in Osaka, feeling Merlin touching his cock as clearly as if it was Arthur’s own. He can feel Merlin’s pulse quicken, feel the sweat on his brown, feel him wet his lips. He can’t stop looking, can’t look away.

Arthur turns the water off.

—

“I was imagining it was me touching you,” Arthur confesses later. Merlin nods, like he’d been expecting it.

“Good,” he says, “because I was imagining touching you.”

“I wish you could.”

“Hm?”

“Touch me.”

Merlin smiles a little. “Why don’t you come over here and let me?”

—

“Where are _you_ going?” Morgana asks, gesturing towards his packed suitcase.

He grins, feeling giddy as he says, “I’m going to Japan.”

* * *

**9.**

Arthur's muscles were on fire. He lifted the weights again and again, increasing the speed and power behind his movements.

_The collective intake of breath from the crowd had drowned out the crescendo of the music. That, rather than the wind being knocked out of him, had told him that he'd ended his quadruple toe-loop on his buttocks. He'd gotten up lightening-quick, but the damage was done._

He heard a distant thud, a door falling shut. He got up in an instant, switching the apparatus back into neutral. His heartbeat quickened. None of the figure skaters would come to the gym the night of the long program. They were out enjoying the mid-season reprieve. His father or his coach would know better than to look for him tonight. Not when he'd lost. He'd be left to sulk in peace. 

"I knew I'd find you here." Merlin came into Arthur's line of sight, smiling. It wasn't smug or gloating, it was the friendly, familiar smile that always seemed to get under Arthur's skin. "You must be sore from that fall." His rival still didn't sound vindictive about having won the European championships over Arthur. Instead, there was a hungry look in his eyes, "Let me see." 

Arthur let out an involuntary moan at the soft command. Keeping his eyes locked on Merlin's gaze, Arthur got up from the weight machine, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his training tights and pulling them down in one swift movement, at the same time getting rid of his boxers and sneakers. His cock was already showing interest in the proceedings but it was his arse Merlin wanted to see. He turned around, slowly leaning forward, arms reaching to brace himself against the wall.

_To the victor go the spoils._

He heard Merlin slowly inch closer and the speed of Arthur's heartbeat increased even further in anticipation. 

A cool hand reached out to touch the sore skin that by now had to be looking dark blue from hitting the unforgiving ice earlier. But the hand remained gentle, fingers only mildly pressing into the bruises.

"Do it." Arthur grunted.

Though Arthur had been braced for it, the harsh smack to his arse still sent shockwaves down his body. Another one followed instantly, and another. At first the stinging pain drowned out any feelings of arousal but as the rhythm of the slaps picked up in speed and his cock was pushed against the hard and cold surface of the wall, it twitched in response. 

Arthur's moans coincided with the _slap, slap, slap_ , his body slowly being drained from the pent-up energy that came from competing. 

Suddenly Merlin stopped and Arthur was left with nothing but the burning ache.   
A moment later, Merlin's tongue gently lapping against his inflamed arsecheeks was almost too much to bear. But after only a few seconds it started to feel cool and soothing. 

Every inch of the red-hot skin was being kissed and licked. Arthur spread his legs a little, hoping the invitation was clear. He let out a sigh of relief when Merlin's long finger entered him swift and deep, first one, and then another one fucking in and out of him. "More," he demanded breathlessly. A third finger entered him, followed by another quick slap to his buttocks. "Please..." Arthur wasn't used to hearing himself beg, but he needed this, Merlin fucking him with his fingers while at the same time hurting him, reminding him of how sore he was - how sore he deserved to be.

Merlin did just that. Fingers fucking Arthur deep and hard, Merlin's other hand hitting him again and again, creating that addictive combination of pleasure and pain that made Arthur feel alive. It didn't take long for Arthur to reach his climax, screaming both curses and endearments alike.

In the blissed-out moment that followed, he felt Merlin rutting against him through the layers of polyester. The idiot was still wearing his bloody costume. _He's going to get sparkles all over me_ , Arthur thought, damn if his cock didn't try to come back to life at that.

They were drowsing off together afterwards, satiated and lying fully naked on the wooden floor, Merlin's _Firebird_ costume a rumpled heap beside them. 

"There's always worlds." Merlin suggested. 

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur muttered. Though they both knew he most definitely was up for a rematch.

* * *

**10.**

His eyes are closed as he strokes his cock to hardness, eager to get the hell out of the room that smells of disinfectant and reminds him just how ridiculous the notion of selling his sperm is. He feels a tight pinch against his right shoulder and his eyes fly open to see an assemblage of doctors around him and Arthur struggles as an oxygen mask is forced over his face. Whatever he's inhaling is making his limbs feel heavy and slow as he desperately tries to question the manhandling doctors. The doctors ignore him and strip him and he feels like he's floating. He overhears one confirm that he's "the Recurrence" and another order the rest to kill him.

Suddenly, a man is crashing through the clinic room's wall and shooting at the the doctors who have turned into little grey creatures and Arthur knows that he's truly lost his damn mind. The man smiles at Arthur and Arthur has just enough time to notice that the man is handsome and his eyes flash from blue to gold before he's being pulled onto what can only be described as a hoverboard and is clutching onto the man for dear life as they fly through the wrecked walls and out into the city. They're being chased and shot at by some sort of spacecraft and Arthur thinks it's perfectly reasonable that he passes out at some point.

\--

When he wakes, he's in an unfamiliar bed and newly clothed. He sits up groggily and looks across the room. The man from what he assumed was some bizarre nightmare from getting pissed and passing out is sitting there at a table by the window calmly eating breakfast.

"What the actual fuck?" Arthur questions as he stalks over to the table.

"Sit and eat while I explain," the man says as he gestures to the second plate of food.

Arthur stares at the man for a minute, he's basically just been kidnapped but he's also been saved from apparent death and he's rather hungry so he sits down in the other chair heavily and starts to eat as he glares and waits for an explanation.

"My name is Merlin and I was hired to find you by the Royal Prince Mordred and bring you to him. I wasn't expecting to have to save you from near death, but I'm starting to think you're more important that I've been lead to believe," Merlin explains. "I-" Merlin stops abruptly and his eyes turn gold. He says something in a language that Arthur doesn't understand and stretches an arm out towards Arthur.

"Bloody hell," Arthur yells as a ball of energy shoots past his ear and shatters the window behind him. He turns around and there's another bloody spaceship behind him. Merlin grabs his hand and Arthur finds himself once again hanging onto Merlin for dear life on a hoverboard.

 

\--

"You've gotta be bloody kidding me," Arthur groans as he wakes up in yet another unfamiliar room wearing more clothes he hadn't placed on his own body.

"You look just like him," a beautiful woman tells him as he gets out of bed. "I'm Morgana of the royal house of Pendragon, and you must be Arthur, the Recurrence of my father Uther. Come, let me give you a tour."

\--

Morgana is stepping out of a pool of iridescent water looking decades younger than she had which was apparently 14,000 years old when a group of people crashed through the doors. Arthur is relieved to see Merlin among them and find out that the people Merlin is with are apparently space police.

\--

"So you're an alien?" Arthur asks a few days later when he's finally safe from his scheming royal family. He's requisitioned his own spaceship. Morgause's estate had reverted to him after her death since she was behind Arthur's first death as Uther. He's also inherited most of Mordred's estate as compensation from trying to be forced into entering a marriage union under false pretenses. He's in a unique position now to be able to stop the harvesting of further planets.

"I'm of a race that came before humans," Merlin responds. They are lying naked in Arthur's bed and Arthur can feel Merlin's morning erection against his thigh.

"And you're older than the sun," Arthur says. He shifts in Merlin's arms until Merlin's cock is resting against the cheeks of his ass.

"That depends on which sun you're referring to," Merlin replies. He palms Arthur's own cock and Arthur thinks he can get used to this new life.

* * *

**11.**

It’s high noon when Gwaine strolls into the saloon. The familiar scent of sawdust and bourbon lingers in the air. 

By the time Gwaine reaches the bar, Percy has already poured him a glass of water – one brow raised, as though he’s certain today will be the day Gwaine cracks and orders a whiskey.

He slides into the empty stool beside Merlin and accepts the glass with a wide grin. 

“Say Emrys, have you seen Old Tibbs around? Bastard owes me my double eagles,” Gwaine asks without preliminaries.

Merlin winces. “Wouldn’t be surprised if Tibbs was halfway to Albuquerque right about now,” he says, taking a sip of his gin. “He got cleaned out – money and dignity in one run.” 

Gwaine curses. “’s that what the uproar is about?” he asks, glancing towards the back poker table. Merlin nods. “Well. Who’s the new chap then?” 

Merlin grins widely. “Morgana le Fay.”

***

Gwaine pushes his way through the crowd around the table until he’s standing in front of a young woman with raven hair. Her Stetson hat is tipped forward, and Gwaine can only see the cherry of her lips wrapped around a lit cigarette.

The clamor crowd dies down when Gwaine slams his glass down on the table in front of her. She looks up and pulls the cigarette from between her lips. 

“Something wrong, pretty boy?”

“Old Tibb owed me money.”

Morgana laughs and takes a sip of Gwaine’s glass. Her nose scrunches and she goes back to shuffling a deck of cards. “Sounds like a problem between you and Tibbs.”

“He took French leave because of you. And I want what’s mine,” Gwaine slams his fist on the table.

Morgana’s lips press into a thin line and she drags her gaze up to meet his. “Your drink of choice is Adam’s Ale. Your threats don’t mean a damn thing.”

Gwaine grits his teeth and pulls up a chair to straddle. “Deal,” he says.

Morgana raises a brow and Gwaine taps his fingers against the table. “Come on, then. We’ll play for it. If you win, I’ll consider the debt settled. If I win, you pay up, and –“

“And nothing. You’ll have your money.”

“I deserve something for my troubles.”

She scoffs. “What do you want?”

Gwaine licks his lips. “Does it matter? I’m not going to win anyway, am I?”

Morgana leans back in her seat and gives him an appraising look. He smirks. 

She deals.

***

The third time Morgana bites her lower lip, Gwaine is able to ignore his growing arousal and realize the action for what it is: a tell.

***

Gwaine kisses down Morgana’s neck, his hands pressing her waist into the mattress when she arches up against him.

“You have the most incredible breasts,” he says, and sucks a pert nipple into his mouth. 

She moans and grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging on it roughly. Gwaine moves to press kisses between her breasts, and licks a stripe down to her navel.

“I let you win,” she breathes out, apropos of nothing.

“Hmm?” Gwaine hums distractedly, then, “What?” He looks up at her. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes. I did,” she insists.

Gwaine narrows his eyes and Morgana drags him up for a heady kiss. She licks into his mouth – wet and hot, and Gwaine groans against her lips. Morgana pulls away and locks eyes with him -- she bites her lower lip. Gwaine curses.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because,” she says, pushing him onto his back. “Now you owe me. And I want to sit on your face.”

Gwaine’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Um, yeah, all right,” he mutters.

Morgana gives him a wicked grin, her lipstick now smeared obscenely across her mouth. She crawls up his body and lifts her skirt, rests her knees on either side of his head.

“You’re not wearing any – _Christ_ ,” Gwaine remarks dumbly, his words muffled by the cotton. He grabs her hips to pull her against his face and licks into her with the tip of his tongue. “And so wet for me.”

“Oh, _oh_ ,” Morgana moans, gripping the headboard and rocking against his face.

Gwaine slides a hand beneath her skirt to grab her ass. He moves his tongue tantalizingly over her clit until she’s writhing against him, her breaths coming out in heavy pants. 

Morgana comes with a shudder and loud cry. She slides down and gives him a filthy kiss, rubs her thigh against the bulge in his trousers. “Didn’t need to fool you, did I?”

* * *

**12.**

''I'm not going with you!''

Arthur sighs, but doesn't turn around. Just keeps checking his tack. He picks up his gloves and pulls them on, then swings himself into the saddle.

The kid is still standing in front of the house, fists clenched at his sides. He's gangly like a colt, with a scrawny neck and dark hair too short to cover his ears. But his scowl is impressive.

Arthur picks up the reins and nods at the mare to his left. ''Get on that horse, or I swear I'll strap you to the saddle all the way to California.''

\---

''My father didn't want me seventeen years ago. Why would he come looking for me now?''

Merlin's eyes are burning with anger and resentment in the light of the campfire. The dancing shadows emphasize his sharp cheekbones and that obscene mouth that Arthur refuses to think about.

''I'm just your escort,'' he says, spooning up his beans.

\---

When they settle down to sleep, Arthur closes his eyes and waits. Soon there's the rustling sound of someone carefully getting up from their bedroll. The kid is bloody predictable.

''Where do you think you're going?'' Arthur asks calmly, and Merlin takes off straight into the treeline. 

Arthur curses. He follows, but it's dark and Merlin is quick. Dawn is approaching before he finds him. 

“I don’t need a keeper!’’ Merlin snarls, shivering from the cold. ''I can take care of myself!''

Arthur doesn't even dignify that with a response.

\---

When Merlin chases their horses off two days later, Arthur finally has enough.

"Is this what you want?" he growls, pushing the kid over his lap and pulling down the woollen trousers to expose Merlin's butt. "For me to _make_ you behave?"

Not waiting for an answer, Arthur brings his hand down on Merlin's pale cheeks with a resounding smack. 

''Let me go! You can't--'' 

Merlin is clawing at Arthur, bucking his hip as he tries to wriggle away, but Arthur holds him firm and keeps up a steady rhythm - not brutal but making it sting - until that ivory skin is red and hot. After a little while, Merlin stops struggling. He makes little keening noises now, soft and forlorn, his face buried in the crook of his arm as he rocks himself against Arthur's thigh.

Arthur stills.

Merlin's prick is hard as a nail.

His ears, on the other hand, are the bright colour of mortification. 

Hesitantly, Arthur reaches out and pets that raven hair. 

''Ssshh,'' he murmurs. ''It's okay. Just... just don't do it again.'' 

He gently rubs over Merlin's abused flesh, and the kid's breath catches when Arthur's fingers trace the cleft between his cheeks, a hot, damp trail leading to temptation.

''Have you been had before?'' Arthur asks quietly, and Merlin shoots him a confused, tear-stained look. Arthur pushes his finger down further, touches the clench of Merlin's hole. ''Here,'' he clarifies.

Merlin's eyes widen. He shakes his head, but tentatively pushes back after a moment.

Arthur sucks in a sharp breath.

''Yeah?'' he whispers. Merlin bites his lip. Then he nods.

Arthur wets his fingers, makes it two, and then returns them to the boy's virgin hole.

There's resistance at first, but it doesn't take long and Merlin is riding those fingers with shocked little moans. Arthur pushes in another. Merlin whines, the sound muffled, and Arthur sees that he has his thumb in his mouth up to the first knuckle, sucking frantically with his eyes closed.

''Fuck,'' Arthur pants. ''You little minx.''

There is no way he can stop this now. He eases Merlin to the ground. The kid's arms are curled under him and his arse is raised, legs spread as if he's begging. He keeps sucking his thumb.

''You're doing good,'' Arthur murmurs, kissing Merlin's neck as he lines himself up. ''So good. Know you can take it. I'll fill you up. Make a man out of you.''

Merlin is panting now, shaking with nerves and anticipation while pressing back, needy for it. Arthur takes hold of one bony hip and starts pressing in, stretching that tight ring of Merlin's virgin hole. 

''God, you're perfect. Taking my cock like this. Such a good boy.''

Merlin sobs into his fist.

''So good for Daddy.''

Merlin mewls and clenches around him as he comes.

\---

''Where will we go now?'' Merlin asks, nuzzling into Arthur's shoulder.

''You know where.'' 

''Mhmmm...'' Merlin stretches lazily. ''It's a long way to California. I'm sure I can change your mind."

* * *

**13.**

Freya drifts. She looks up through the clear water, faintly green as glass. There's sun and air up there, but the lake is her element now. She has been transformed. 

At the core she hasn't changed, though. Her mind is filled with dreams and yearning. She moves through the water to the rhythm of desires she barely understands. 

The lake teems with magical life, - water sprites, foam spirits, and merfolk. And of course there are the Sidhe, flitting across the water like brilliant points of light. 

But Freya herself is one-of-a-kind. 

Her loneliness turns her into a keen observer of the lake's other supernatural beings. She soon learns that sex fuels their magic. The sprites frolic around her, rubbing up against each other, their translucent skin flushing with heat when they copulate. And the Sidhe are insatiable. Tiny bodies always seem to be undulating in the air, couples and groups twisting into knots of pleasure. Their frequent orgasms flicker across the lake with an eerie blue luminescence. 

Freya watches them all with increasing hunger. She longs for her beloved, but he is far away.

-x-x-x-

They finally meet again when Merlin comes to take Excalibur from her hand. After that he continues visiting her now and then. He sits on the shore, speaking as tenderly to her as if she still were the pretty girl he once knew.

She craves much more than talk. Her desire grows strong enough to stir the lake, its crested waves breaking across Merlin's bare feet. 

“Come join me in the water, I want you. I need you,” she pleads. 

There's sadness in Merlin's eyes as he shakes his head. But he dips his toes into the lake. She suckles each one, pinching his ankles with frantic fingers.

She can touch _him_ , for her unique powers allow her to reach through to the human world, but Merlin cannot reciprocate. The one time he reaches down to hug her, his hands pass right through her as if she's no more than the water that surrounds her. He can never hold her, never actively give her pleasure. 

She keens in frustration and claws at his knees.

“Freya, I'm sorry,” he sighs, and she barely hears his voice through the storm that fills her mind. “I cannot join you. If I give myself completely, I will drown. But we can do this - “ 

There is a rocky outcropping a foot below the surface. Merlin undresses and slides into the lake, sitting down on that ledge. His head remains above water, but Freya has the rest of him. 

She plunges forward to grab his hips. Her lips close around his dick. It's a new and very satisfying sensation that gets even better when she feels his erection growing, filling her mouth. Pulling back, she holds his hard cock in her small hand and laps at the tip like a kitten licking cream. She joyfully swallows every drop when he comes. The milky fluid mingles with the lake water that is her essence. 

Freya somersaults three times backwards in delight, just like a mermaid dancing in the deep.

"I love you," she tells him.

Merlin looks troubled when he climbs out of the water.

-x-x-x-

Freya is back to watching the sex life of the Sidhe and the sprites. Filled with longing and envy, she is waiting, always waiting. Her hunger intensifies. She yearns for Merlin with a young woman's romantic heart, but a mature sorceress' appetite.

When Merlin returns to the ledge in the water at last, she licks him from the chest down and rubs herself raw on his cock. The tangled strands of her long hair surge like seaweed around him.

One time she stretches out, resting her head on the ledge when he sits down. A strong undertow tugs at his splayed legs and her whole body while his arse presses firmly down on her, his scrotum rubbing against her lips and tongue. The stimulation makes her face tingle. She's ablaze with the glory of it, although she soon longs for more. She needs all of him, always.

-x-x-x-

Everything changes when the king dies. Merlin wants to be faithful to Arthur's memory.

He visits her one last time. Kneeling down on the shore, he ducks his head under water, holding his breath until Freya reluctantly rises to press her cold, cold lips to his. 

The only kiss the Lady of the Lake ever takes from her lover says good-bye.


	6. Chapter 6

**14.**

Merlin dreams.

He knows he’s dreaming because Arthur’s here, lying next to Merlin on the grass, propped on his elbow, blond fringe falling into his eyes. Merlin wants to reach out and brush the locks away, but he’s afraid to stir and lose the dream.

Arthur smiles at Merlin and then leans over; his rough hand cups Merlin’s cheek and brings them closer. Their lips almost touch. Arthur’s breath is warm on Merlin’s skin, redolent of pine trees and horses, as if he’s just returned from a patrol in the forest. And Merlin _prays_.

He hasn’t prayed in years, eons really, but now he does, wishing for the dream to linger on.

“Open your eyes, Merlin,” Arthur says, and Merlin does so reluctantly, because all this is going to vanish as soon as his lids open. He’ll be in the cave again, where he’s been since he could no longer walk the earth, too tired from waiting nearly two thousand years for Arthur to return.

“Aren’t you a lazy princess,” Arthur says.

“I was asleep,” Merlin says. He isn’t sure he’s awake now.

“And not the sharpest tool in the shed either.” Arthur laughs, throwing his head back. He looks so carefree, so young, like when they first met. Or maybe not. Maybe like when they drank from the chalice.

Around them trees hum in the warm wind. The grass underneath their bodies is thick and soft. Arthur’s hand snakes down, and his fingers caress the strip of Merlin’s skin visible between breeches and tunic. Merlin sucks in his breath. This is not something they should pursue. But Arthur’s hand dips lower, underneath the fabric, and soon it’s covering Merlin’s cock—hard and stirring now.

When Arthur leans over Merlin, rubbing their hard cocks together, Merlin squirms. Arthur’s muscular body smells sweet, burns hot, and Merlin’s never wanted anything as much as he wants this: Arthur’s lips on his, Arthur’s hands clasped tight around his wrists as he grinds against Merlin.

“Take this off,” Arthur orders regally, expecting to be obeyed. He bends Merlin’s naked legs, pushing them up and up until Merlin’s almost curled in a ball.

“What are you doing?” Merlin asks, but all sound is lost when Arthur’s tongue—wet, hot, insistent—laps over Merlin’s hole. And once Merlin’s _dripping_ , Arthur lines up his cock and thrusts in, once, twice, and again. Merlin whines, writhes, and almost sobs, begging the gods until they’re both spilling—Arthur pulsing deep into Merlin’s hole and Merlin hot and milky between them.

 

Arthur’s kisses Merlin, squeezes his arm. “I love you,” he says, his lips brushing the delicate skin behind Merlin’s ear.

There’s something in the way he says it, something in the way the trees sway, something in the way Arthur’s eyes gleam with white light when Merlin pulls back that makes Merlin doubt.

He gasps. “Who are you?”

“I’m Arthur.”

But Merlin knows better.

“No,” he says. “No. You’re not him. What magic is this?” He jerks back. He stumbles over the pile of discarded clothes, legs getting tangled in the shirts as he tries to back away.

Arthur’s face is perfectly still, beautiful when he smiles, beautiful when he looks confused, like he does now. He reaches out.

“Don’t touch me!” Merlin shouts. He screams until his throat is raw, and all around him the vision of the forest and grass fades, leaving only pure white. This time he prays to wake up.

A voice booms out of the white mist. “We’re sorry,” it intones. “We assumed. Is this not what you craved?”

Merlin looks down where his tears fall one by one, drops bouncing off the swirling white. “Where am I? Who are you?” He must be dreaming. He’s always dreaming these days.

“We’re… new. Your kind doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve been asleep for over ten thousand years. Our probe detected you among the crystals in the mountains. We saw Arthur in your dreams and created him for you. Does it not make you happy?”

Merlin is going insane. He’s been dreaming too long. He clutches his head, tearing at his hair. _This_ cannot be. He remembers being tired, so tired, and falling asleep, but if this is reality he wishes he’d never woken up. He starts running, but all around there’s only white.

He stops when a cliff materializes in front of him. Black ocean roars beneath his feet. He closes his eyes and takes a step forward.

He doesn’t wake up.

Merlin dreams.

* * *

**15.**

 

The gym is cool despite the heat wave outside. That is one of the reasons Merlin’s here. Another, of course, is to try to bulk up a bit before uni this autumn so he won’t look like a newborn calf that’s just been let into a big green pasture and doesn’t know what to do with itself. 

But the biggest reason is the guy running the gym – Arthur. Fit like a greek god, Merlin can’t help watching him. Sneakily, of course, he’s not an idiot. He realises Arthur is fit enough to kill him with his bare hands if he ever finds out.

Today, the gym is rather quiet. Only one more guy is there, and when he gets up, winks at Arthur and leaves, Merlin feels the need to maybe start pumping the chest press a bit harder, just in case Arthur notices he’s mostly staring at him instead of working out. Trying to look cool, he accidentally pushes a bit too hard and makes the weights slam together with a loud clang. He blushes and adjusts his grip.

When he looks up, Arthur is standing right in front of him.

“Hey kid,” he says. “Want help?”

“Not a kid,” Merlin retorts before he can stop himself. “I’m 18.”

Arthur doesn’t reply, just watches him thoughtfully. The seconds drag on, and Merlin starts squirming slightly under the scrutiny.

After about half a minute, Arthur sits down on the machine opposite Merlin. “Go on,” he says, “I’ll watch. Give you pointers, if you need them.”

A bit offended and very embarrassed, Merlin starts pushing the bar forward, towards Arthur. It goes easily, because he always puts on too little weight in order to ogle Arthur instead of concentrating on lifting.

“You’re stronger than you might think.” Arthur stops him and adjusts the weights before gesturing for him to start over. “Do fifteen.”

This time, it takes some effort for Merlin to push the bar forward. He stops, holds it for a second, and then gently brings it back towards his chest. Again and again he does it, and Arthur keeps watching.

“Lift your elbows a little, otherwise you’ll won’t reach the right muscles. Yeah, like that!” he says approvingly when Merlin adjusts his position slightly. “Good man!”

The praise makes Merlin blush, and he can feel his cock getting interested. He tries to quickly finish the set so he can escape into the locker room, but the weights are almost too heavy now, and his arms are getting tired. At the thirteenth push, he’s panting with the effort, but still refuses to give up. He’s not a little boy.

Arthur watches him intently. “Come on, just two more. You’re doing so well. You’re strong, you can do it.”

It’s a miracle Merlin doesn’t whimper at that. Jesus!

When Merlin finally manages fifteen, Arthur rises and clamps a sweaty hand on his shoulder.

“You did so fucking well, man. Pushing yourself is all about the mental bit, you know that, right?” He hesitates. “Maybe there’s something I can do to motivate you to do better?”

Merlin stares at him. What...? Does he mean what Merlin thinks he means? He swallows hard.

“No, I’m fine,” he croaks, because he’s not brave enough to do anything about his fantasies. Not yet. Maybe never.

Arthur crouches down in front of him and puts his hands on his thighs. Merlin shifts nervously on the seat, heart pounding in his chest.

“So this... is just because of the adrenalin?” Arthur says and gently moves his hand to the bulge in Merlin’s shorts.

He’ll never admit it, but Merlin might have let out a whine at that. “No, yes, it’s not–”

But Arthur lifts his t-shirt up, pulls down his shorts and underpants and frees his hard cock. He’s even closer now, oh my god, what is he–

Merlin’s hands grip the bars of the machine tight, so tight, not to scream when Arthur wraps his hand around his erection and carefully starts stroking his length. It’s too dry, horribly awkward in more than one way, but also _so fucking hot_ because it’s Arthur, and Merlin doesn’t even last a minute before he shudders and comes.

Arthur looks pleased. “So pretty,” he says. “So strong. So damn good...” He wipes the jizz on his hand on Merlin’s shorts and scoots closer, still. He gently guides Merlin’s mouth to his and gives him a slow kiss. “Such a good boy.”

His body and mind exhausted, Merlin smiles weakly. “Yeah,” he says. “I am.”

* * *

**16.**

It happens on some backwater planet Mithian won't even remember the name of, later. It was supposed to be a simple mission, recon, nothing complicated, but Mithian's barely back on the ship a standard hour before she realises she feels... weird.

She goes straight to medical.

"Yep," Merlin says, after he's looked her over, "we've got a straightforward fuck-or-die on our hands."

Mithian's heart sinks. She was really hoping her suit was reading her symptoms wrong. "Are you sure it's die," she asks carefully, "and not just be slightly inconvenienced for a while?"

"Afraid so," Merlin says, apologetic, and Mithian sighs. "Elena's your approved partner, right?"

Mithian nods. They joined the programme together, and they shared a bunk during training, and they've seen all the worst sides of each other. It just made sense.

"Here," Merlin says, giving her a small, unmarked box. "You're probably going to need this."

*

Elena answers straightaway when Mithian goes to knock on her cabin, and goes from pleased to see her to worried in about a second flat. Mithian's really, really glad she put Elena down when she was filling in the registration forms.

"Fuck-or-die," Mithian says, before Elena can ask. Mithian is flushed all over, and she can taste blood where she's been biting her lip to keep quiet. "Something on the planet. It hasn't been long."

"Good," Elena says, and steps aside to let her in. "What's the box for?"

"Merlin gave it to me," Mithian says, trying not to feel weirder than she already does. She's never been inside Elena's cabin before; they're not really designed for people to spend a lot of time in, but they sacrifice space for privacy, which is something Mithian is incredibly grateful for right now. "I haven't opened it yet."

"You went to see Merlin?"

"I had to be sure," Mithian says, and then has to take a deep breath because Elena has shut the door, come inside, and the space between them has vanished.

"Come on," Elena says, quiet, "let's get this done."

She puts a hand on Mithian's shoulder, and even through her suit, Mithian feels the sweet relief, the edge of not-quite-enough. Mithian nods. Elena steers her over to the bed, taking the box from her to open up.

"Vibrators," she says, shaking her head, "I think I'm insulted."

Mithian laughs, and then Mithian moans, because Elena is peeling off her suit and her skin is suddenly burning everywhere it is not being touched.

"Stop me if I do anything you don't like," Elena says, and then her head disappears between Mithian's legs.

Mithian comes under a minute later, shaking all over, and Elena looks smug until the shaking doesn't stop.

"Okay," she says, "I don't think I'm insulted any more."

She gets out a bullet-shaped vibrator from Merlin's box, presses it tight to Mithian's clit, doesn't take it away when Mithian comes. Mithian cries out, raw and sensitive, but still needing it, still nowhere close to release.

"I need," she says, and then just breathes out, heavy. Elena frowns, comes up to look down at her, their faces close, her body hovering above Mithian's. "Can you- on top of me. I need to feel you."

"I can do that," Elena says, lowering herself over Mithian, pressing Mithian down into the bed. It didn't feel good, before, beyond the base satisfaction, and Mithian doesn't know why this is different, doesn't want to wonder. 

The next time Mithian comes, she breathes out sweet relief, and Elena stops.

* * *

**17.**

The pod burst from the escape hatch and was instantly lost in the surrounding space dust. Balinor switched to sensors and navigated to the nearest asteroid to wait. The UCS Ygraine swept by, leaving swirls and eddies of space junk in her wake. All Balinor could do was cling to the asteroid for shelter. 

The shaking lessened. Through the dust and static he saw the Ygraine disappear into warp, and he rushed to set his own course. The Ygraine would return when she realized the pod was gone, and he'd best be gone by-

“Who are you?” A voice asked.

Balinor whipped around. One hand checked his disguise- short red hair, good- and the other went to his sidearm.

“Show yourself,” he demanded.

A man stepped forward. Youngish, short black hair, blue eyes, and apparently stupid.

“Name,” Balinor asked.

“Emrys,” said the man. “You?”

“James,” Balinor said. “What're you doing on my ship?”

“What're you doing on mine?” Emrys retorted.

“I stole it.”

“I helped.” Balinor raised an eyebrow at that.

“Oh really?”

“They won't know we're gone for weeks,” Emrys said.

Balinor nodded. “You're an Extra, then.”

“That's why _I'm_ leaving. You?”

“Not your business,” Balinor said. He turned to the screens. “Got any place in mind, Emrys?”

“New Calypso.”

“Good enough.”

Balinor had known Extras before. United Camelot assured its citizens that Extras were contract workers, not slaves. Extras needed more structure to help them integrate into society. When one misbehaved, it was a tragedy caused by mental illness. The only cure was euthanasia. It was never an execution.

When Emrys worked his anklets off, it didn't look like punishment.

His eyes turned bright gold, so bright they actually glowed. He arched his back, gasped, moaned as his skin shimmered in the lights of the piloting display. When the man's skin stopped shining, he dropped to his knees.

“Great Goddess,” Emrys gasped. “It's been so long.”

Balinor couldn't help it. The man was Extra, and probably either ill or a criminal, and so, so beautiful. He knelt to kiss Emrys, and the man kissed him back with interest.

In moments they were nude on the metal floor, Emrys' skin alternating between humanoid and opalescent blue-green. Balinor had a moment's wonder of “how do I have sex with him?” before Emrys pushed his fingers into Balinor's mouth.

“Breathe through your nose,” was Emrys's only instruction before his eyes rolled back. “James, James, yes, James,” he said, as Balinor licked and sucked at his preternaturally long fingers. When those fingers hit the back of his throat and farther, Balinor could only wish Emrys knew his true name.

Balinor reached between Emrys's legs and found nothing, but the mouth that closed around his cock was human enough. He'd never done this with a man, never felt something in his mouth while getting his own cock sucked- it was overwhelming.

The fingers in his mouth changed shape, got longer and flatter. He felt them go down his throat and took a deep, shuddering breath through his nose. A mouth on his cock, a hand over his mouth, fingers deep in his throat, and he felt owned, taken, lost. He came and felt Emrys swallow it down, and waited for Emrys's hand to retreat.

It lingered, and Balinor coughed. He nearly gagged, but Emrys pet his back.

“Time, James, give me time.”

Emrys was still flushed, still hot with arousal, and his fingers still grew within Balinor's throat. Suddenly he felt a burst of cold in his gut. Colder and colder, until his stomach began to swell with it and Emrys's face showed ecstasy. When Emrys's fingers retreated, his hand releasing its hold over Balinor's mouth, Balinor felt fat and swollen. His fingertips had left a sour-sweet trail on his tongue, which he now passed through his mouth like a new kind of ale.

They got to New Calypso and didn't look back. Emrys was searching for something, and Balinor wanted to never be found. But when Balinor's first son looked more like Emrys than himself, he said nothing to his wife, and looked to the stars.

* * *

**18.**

“You have the the wrong man! I’m no superhero! I haven’t done anything to anyone!” 

Arthur Pentley struggled against the restraints that bound him, his arms shackled above his head as his body hung strung up in the middle of an empty room, his feet barely touching the floor.

A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, his pertinent features hidden by an all encompassing hood.

“Please Arthur, I’m not an idiot,” Emrys stated drily.

“Camelot isn’t a huge town. Everyone knows that your Pendragon.”

Arthur glared at his nemesis and Merlin sighed exasperatedly.

“For fucks suck, you’re the only blonde in the village.”

Emrys approached Arthur’s prone body slowly; halting only when they were a hairsbreadth apart. Arthur’s unwavering silence the only thing between them.

“What I don’t understand,” Merlin continued with barely restrained frustration, “Is why you fight against the resistance.”

Arthur remained silent as Emrys placed his hand against his torso, tracing the muscles beneath his shirt before continuing upwards on its journey to test the shackles holding him captive. 

Merlin’s eyes flashed golden and as if by magic a pair of scissors rose from a nearby workbench floating across to their master as summoned. 

All at once Merlin felt the muscles in Arthur's’ body harden and tense.

Emrys tsked in disbelief.

“You have a magical blade that follows your every command and extraordinary strength and yet you’d still see those of us with powers locked away when you’re practically one of us yourself.”

“I’m not one of you,” Pendragon hissed.

Merlin started at the sound of Arthur's voice.

“The resistance hurts innocent people. I could never condone that”

Merlin turned away.

“Not all of us hurt people Arthur, and not all of those that get hurt are innocent,” Merlin grasped the hovering scissors, and turned back to face him, his hooded cloak concealing all of his features but his eyes.

“You could be the best of us, you know,” Merlin murmured as he brought the scissors up to Arthur's chest, carefully cutting a line up the center of Arthur's shirt revealing the muscles beneath. “You could lead the resistance, make us better than what we are.”

Emrys kissed the center of Arthur's solar plexus, the firm muscles clenching under his touch.

“We could leave Camelot,” Merlin trailed a line of kisses down his body to the top of Arthur's trousers. “We could go to Albion and help everyone who needs us; Normal and Super alike.”

Arthur groaned as Merlin unzipped his trousers palming the cock hidden beneath. Merlin leant forward and nuzzled at the bulge breathing in the smell of Arthur's arousal before mouthing at the head through his underwear.

When Arthur was fully erect Merlin pulled back to smile impishly at Pendragon only to be met by a glare.

“If this is your form of interrogation you should know that I’m not easily seduced,” Arthur said proudly, a small pout upon his lips.

Merlin laughed loudly.

“After I’m done worshipping your body you won’t remember your name much less anything else you’ve told me.”

Arthur watched warily as Emrys sat before him, his hands caressing Arthur's thighs as his lips trailed down his left leg nipping randomly along sections of his skin. 

Merlin smiled every time Arthur jumped at his playful bites but quickly grew wary of the game instead focusing on Arthur’s feet, suckling every toe individually into his mouth and swirling his tongue against them luxuriously. 

Arthur felt every suckle against them as if they were being laid upon his own cock, his arousal growing along with his determination not to show it.

Merlin released Arthur’s last toe with an audible pop, rising up to tweak Arthur's nipples and circling around to embrace Arthur from behind. Arthur remained still as he felt Emrys breath against his neck, his earlobe suckled against Merlin's plush lips.

“You can try all you like Merlin, but you won’t break me,” Arthur said, breath hitching as Merlin ground his erection against Arthur's arse.

He felt Merlin still in surprise and grinned victoriously.

“I guess I’m not the only one in the village with a shit disguise.”

A hand reached beneath his pants to squeeze him tight and Arthur bit back a moan at the contact.

Merlin let loose a deep chuckle, his eyes flashing golden.

“Perhaps, but we’ll see who wins out in the end.”

* * *

**19.**

Arthur sidles up to Merlin in the mess hall, just as Merlin's getting his protein equivalent.

"You busy tonight?"

Merlin watches the protein equivalent splat down on his tray and cringes. "Not that I know of. Why?"

Arthur shifts his weight, and Merlin shoots him a side look. "What's up?"

Arthur takes a deep breath. "I have a Med App tomorrow. Can I come over?"

Merlin blinks at him. "Of course you can. I'm off after 21:00 hours."

Arthur nods tightly at him, then disappears. Merlin only shakes his head and grabs his tray. He only has so much time to eat before he has to get back to duty.

After his shift is over, Merlin can't help but dawdle in the hallway on his way to his room. The stars shining through the window are as bright as they always are, and the vast emptiness of pinpricks of light always fascinates Merlin.

Arthur's waiting by his door and straightens when Merlin walks up.

"How was work?" 

"Fine." Merlin unlocks his door and ushers Arthur in. Arthur almost immediately flops down on the bed, kicking off his shoes as he does. 

Merlin wrinkles his nose at him. "No, hello? No, good evening, dear?"

"Shut up," Arthur says, and unzips his pants, lifting his hips to wriggle out of them. 

Merlin rolls his eyes and grabs a few necessary items out of his side cabinet before settling on the bed near Arthur's feet.

Arthur's soon naked from the waist down, and he flips on his belly, making Merlin's mouth go dry at the display of his muscled thighs and ass.

"How long has it been?" Merlin asks as he runs his fingers over Arthur's thighs. They're tense, so he massages them for a bit before creeping upwards.

Arthur sighs. "Three weeks or so? It's- whatever."

Merlin grabs the lube nestled in the covers and squeezes out a generous amount to warm in his palm. "No judgment. Just tell me when."

Arthur blows out a breath, slow. "Just do it."

Merlin answers by tracing a finger around Arthur's hole. He's tense here too, so Merlin takes his time gentle pressing, rubbing, before slipping inside.

It punches a groan out of Arthur, muffled a little in Merlin's pillow, so Merlin runs a hand over the small of his back, comforting.

It doesn't take long for Arthur to relax, though, used to this, and Merlin can soon move around, aiming right for-

Arthur chokes off a gasp, and Merlin grins, massaging with his finger as Arthur's hips start to shudder. He slips in another finger to add to the first and Arthur's hiss of breath is loud between them.

Arthur's prostate feels heavy under his two fingers, so he rubs at it carefully, pressing rhythmically with the sensitive pads. He knows Arthur likes it, but even more, he needs it.

"Shhh," Merlin soothes as Arthur whimpers, further buried in the pillow now. "Shouldn't be long now."

Arthur can't stop moving under Merlin's hands, but Merlin doesn't let up, slipping in a third finger to press up unrelentingly against Arthur's prostate.

Arthur gives a choked off cry as his hips jerk and rut him frantically into the mattress, and he groans as Merlin keeps up the steady, measured pressure, until Arthur's sensitive and moaning with it, until he's relaxed and boneless on the bed and surely laying in his own enormous wet spot.

Merlin withdraws, carefully, and wipes off his fingers on a tissue. His own erection aches, but he'll take care of it later.

"Did you have to ruin my bed again?"

"I'll do your laundry later," comes Arthur's voice, muffled from the pillow. "Thanks."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Someday you'll have to learn how to do this yourself. Medical Appointments don't just stop because I've been assigned to a different ship."

Arthur lifts his head and glares at him. "Like I'd let you be assigned somewhere else," he scoffs.

Merlin huffs, but goes to wash his hands and give Arthur some privacy. Also to press a hand into his cock and convince it to stand down. Once he's returned from the little ensuite, Arthur's buckling his belt and smoothing his hair.

Arthur clears his throat. "Thank you for your work Ensign Emrys."

Merlin rolls his eyes for the fifth time in a half hour. "Anytime Commander Pendragon."

* * *

**20.**

 

“In short,”–Elyan purses his lips–“we kidnapped Cenred from his own men, but he was hit by a spell and unless someone is physically intimate with him, he’ll die. Wonderful.”  
“That’s King Cenred,” Cenred purrs, and licks his lips. A shudder runs down Gwaine’s back. He shifts his gaze to Arthur’s clenched jaw; knows instinctively what Arthur is thinking, and it pains him.  
“I’ll do him,” Gwaine announces, and pushes himself up and on his legs.  
***  
“You did not protest. I take you’re satisfied with me?” Gwaine asks while unlacing the winding strings on Cenred’s top. He feels raw and exposed despite his dominant position.  
“Oh, you’ll do me great justice.” Cenred agrees. His breathing is more labored now; cheeks flushed and eyes big and black this close. Sweat rolls down his face and neck, yet its smell makes Gwaine lick his lips and salivate. His blood quickens and he shivers in anticipation.  
“You’re not terribly fond of this shirt, I hope,” he teases and rips the soft material apart before Cenred has any chance to respond.  
Cenred’s torso is gorgeous: his chest is sculpted and his ribs ripple under his skin, but he has a soft belly and Gwaine wants for naught but to run his palm over it on its way to other places. He wants to take his time, but the urgency of the situation imposes a quick, shameless rut, and he regrets it a bit.  
He dispenses of their clothes as quick as possible. Cenred moans and moves in cooperation with evident enthusiasm. The noises he makes drive Gwaine nearly deranged; he straddles Cenred and finally, finally their flesh is touching, their cocks are pressed between the heat and their bellies. Gwaine can’t recognize himself.  
Cenred rubs his inner thighs in Gwaine’s hips and tries to rock him back and forth. “Just do it already,” he babbles, “Don’t bother fingering.”

Gwaine grunts, but obeys. There is something uncanny about skipping preparation; he lubes them both and guides his cock in. Cenred is tight around him, even painfully so; his moans become whimpers and high-pitched noises. His muscles quiver around Gwaine and fuel his impatience. Feels like years before he’s finally all the way in, but when he is it’s bliss. Cenred is a bliss.  
They both groan and whimper, oblivious to the surrounding knights. Gwaine plants his palms on the sides of Cenred’s head and changes his angle so he can rest his forehead against Cenred’s. The king whines in response and Gwaine thinks he can feel the flutter of his lashes. He adjusts his pose again and thrusts, and is rewarded with a loud, shameless moan.  
Another thrust and Cenred tightens up once more, but after he relaxes the clench is almost bearable, and Gwaine finds them a rhythm of small and steady thrusting, hitting that special place within Cenred.  
The latter doesn’t need much to come. He coats his torso in thick whitish strips, the tip of his cock smearing them over his navel. His twitching body, the clenched ass, the tears rolling down his cheeks, it’s too much for Gwaine. His legs protest and shake but he thrusts and thrusts; milks himself completely into Cenred, and the wrecking tides of his own orgasm make him grunt. He has never felt such animalistic satisfaction over filling his mate.  
And then, sudden like a wake-up, something snaps in him. His body is sate and sore with pleasure, but his mind is clear, and he’s able to inspect his own emotions. Cenred does not unlock his legs, does not let him go; Gwaine is in no hurry to detach himself either. They look into each other’s eyes and Gwaine is relieved he’s not the only one free of regret and humiliation as the effects of the spell are wearing off.  
He shifts his weight and brings his palm to Cenred’s side to stroke the king’s lower lip with his thumb. “Consequences will be awkward, I reckon,” he mutters.  
Cenred doesn’t break eye contact. His tongue snakes out and gives Gwaine’s thumb a good long lick, then darts back in, and he laughs.

* * *

**21.**

_On the planet of Myth, in a time of no magic… the destiny of the universe rested on the shoulders of a young man. His name was M’Riss._

Only when the holy consort C’LotPol was found, and made one with M’Riss, would magic return.

As the holy consort would basically rule the universe, as well as getting to have lots of hot sex with M’Riss, there was intense competition for the position. Emperor Kilgharrah, wary of imposters seducing his heir, ordered protection.

Captain Arthur Pendragon of the Camelot Space Corps, _Hot_ magazine Rear of the Year winner and universally renowned for saving the galaxy twice already, had been assigned. 

It was guard duty, and somewhat beneath Arthur’s dignity. But the sacred M’Riss had turned out to be not only pure of body but also young, hot, and with cheekbones to die for. Arthur had no intention of dying, but he appreciated why they’d be considered a universal treasure. And at least M’Riss was sitting down, so no threat to Arthur’s title.

M’Riss sat on a big gold throne. He wore a skimpy gold loincloth and not a lot else, meditating silently on important spiritual matters. Pilgrims constantly visited to admire him.

As there wasn’t a lot else to do, Arthur spent a lot of time admiring him as well. Mostly Arthur admired the flimsy loincloth and fantasised about going where no-one had gone before. 

Sometimes, M’Riss stopped meditating and looked around. The pilgrims sighed adoringly. Arthur rolled his eyes. M’Riss frowned at him. He never spoke because that was forbidden, but the disapproval was obvious.

M’Riss was an ungrateful dick. In a skimpy gold costume. With cheekbones. And very blue eyes. Not that Arthur was noticing at all.

Every day, High Priest Gaius would stand in front of M’Riss and make some nonsensical proclamation about the future. Arthur rolled his eyes at that too.

“The Holy Consort will be coming soon,” Gaius announced one day.

“Thank fuck!” Arthur muttered, because that meant the end of guard duty and the start of exciting universe-saving, which was far more Arthur’s thing.

M’Riss gazed at Arthur, because he always did.

****************

 

Two days later William of Ealdor and his men stormed the temple. Ridiculously, they were all holding plants.

“The aithusa flower!” Lancelot yelled, as a bloom was shoved in Gwaine’s face. “Run!”

Gwaine didn’t run but snogged Lancelot instead.

Arthur stood firm in front of M’Riss, taking out his weapon and firing at Will (and his men). Still they kept coming, flinging the flowers at M’Riss. Arthur brushed the sickly sweet-smelling blooms aside. 

Lancelot and Gwaine were busy shagging, so Arthur heroically drove out the intruders single-handedly and sealed the door.

M’Riss was watching him. Arthur desperately wanted to bend him over that throne and fuck him senseless. 

“Gwen,” he said into his intercom. “We’ve been breached. I need backup. And what’s an aithusa flower?”

Gwen told him. “Did you inhale the sex pollen?” she asked 

Arthur had intercepted all the flowers meant for M’Riss. He was covered in pollen.

“Um... no,” he lied. 

“Back up arrives in an hour,” Gwen promised.

An hour. Unfortunately, the aithusa flower made you so hungry for sex that you’d die within 30 minutes if you didn’t mate. And the only other person in the room was the sacred M’Riss, whose virginity Arthur was sworn to protect. M’Riss, who was walking down the steps from the throne towards Arthur.

“Oh fuck!” muttered Arthur. The gold loincloth was even skimpier when M’Riss stood erect.

M’Riss nodded eagerly, and knelt on the divine stone of claiming, presenting.

Arthur had never failed a mission. However, the virginal hole was right there on offer, mysteriously wet and prepared. Arthur didn’t particularly want to die of sex pollen desperation so he deflowered the sacred arse, thrusting his way to a noisy completion. M’Riss frantically worked his own cock, spilling over the temple floor.

There was a magical flash of gold through the room.

“Thank fuck for that!” M’Riss panted. “What kind of bloody thick consort are you?”

“What?” Apparently the sacred M’Riss was a potty mouth. Who knew?

“I’ve been giving you the come-on for weeks. I couldn’t talk, just give you looks. And wear this draughty thing!”

“I was supposed to guard you.”

“You were supposed to _rescue_ me! I had to email Will for help. I was bored to death! And cold! And horny! I’ve got the stupidest C’LotPol ever.”

Arthur thought he liked it better when M’Riss was silent.

* * *

**22.**

~~~  
_“Our team is gonna get slaughtered and it serves us right for making the scrawny farmer boy our goalie. If you manage to block any goals at all, I’ll come down to your daddy’s farm and play Old McDonald with you. How’s that sound?”_

Emrys was waiting in the stall, dressed in jeans, a pale blue shirt, and a pair of black harness boots, slightly muddy. He looked for formidable here than he did in the halls of their school.

‘Are you ready to play with the farmer’s boy,’ Emrys asked, walking up to Arthur and meeting his gaze. Whatever this was, Arthur’s cock wanted it so he just nodded dumbly.

‘Good,’ Emrys said, slipping something red out of his pocket. ‘Why don’t you take off your clothes for me?’ Walking away, he seated himself on a short stool in the corner. 

Arthur stripped off his shirt and trainers first. The red thing Emrys held was hollow and flared at one end. Arthur decided it must be made of rubber because it flexed when Arthur dropped his jeans and Emrys’ fist clenched in response. 

‘Come here,’ Emrys said, motioning again for Arthur to stop when Arthur made to walk over. ‘What do piggies do, Arthur,’ Merlin asked, sounding almost innocent. Arthur flicked his gaze to the ground, dusty and covered in fresh hay. Hay that Emrys had put down for him. Arthur knew he could balk, walk away, and Emrys would never mention this again.

Or he could do what piggies do.

Arthur felt ungainly as he got down on all fours, uncertain in his limbs in a way he’d never felt before. The burn of desire in his gut was almost unbearable. The hay was soft against his knees and palms, and a grassy animal smell filled his nostrils. Arthur peered up at Emrys, who spread his knees in response. His smirk was apparent and Arthur lowered his gaze as he crawled slowly in between those thighs.

‘How is my piggy today,’ Emrys asked gently. Arthur’s face pressed into the warmth of Emrys’ crotch and he was nuzzling hungrily before he could stop himself. Leaning back, Emrys opened the fly of his jeans and pressed his hard cock into Arthur’s mouth. Emrys forced his cock farther down Arthur’s throat, fucking his mouth in deep, unhurried strokes. Arthur struggled to breathe, fabric clinging to his face. Emrys must have noticed because he paused to strip off his shirt. Arthur could feel thick drool running off his chin and Emrys’ fingers in the waistband of his briefs, sliding them down.

 

Arthur rocked back and forth, fucking his mouth onto Emrys’ cock, distracted. He spread his knees wider on the hay-covered floor, earning him a firm spank that made his hole clench. Flicking his tongue against the shaft of Emrys’ cock, Arthur grunted sharply at the sound and sensation of Emrys’ spitting on his arsehole and pressing a finger into him.

‘That’s my good piggy,’ Emrys cooed, spitting again and pressing another finger into Arthur, spreading them apart on every out stroke. Arthur continued fucking himself between Emrys’ cock and the fingers in his arse, drool puddling on the hay beneath them. Some rustling, the _snick_ of a bottle opening, and the sensation of slick sliding over his hole had Arthur arching his back. 

Emrys’ fingers slipped out of him, replaced by a firm pressure that had him whining. It must have been the red thing Emrys had been holding in his hand, the stretch noticeable but not painful. Emrys hushed him gently, never letting up on the pressure. They groaned in unison when the toy finally slipped past the tight ring of muscle to seat itself inside Arthur; Emrys groaning and cursing when Arthur tried to clench his hole around the toy and whined when he realized he couldn’t.

Pulling Arthur off his cock, Emrys shifted around so he could see what he had done. The toy forced Arthur’s hole open wide, his thighs straining as he fought not to close his. Without Emrys’ cock to distract him, the reality that Emrys was looking _inside_ of him—and that he was on the brink of orgasm from just that, was too much.

Arthur couldn’t feel it but he heard it when Emrys spit in his hole, and that pushed him over, tears springing to his eyes as he buried his face in the hay in shame-tinged lust and painted the hay in thick white stripes, the soft murmuring of his farmer boy in his ear.

* * *

**23.**

It all started on the train.

The Nevada desert didn’t offer much to look at, so Arthur had allowed the stranger across from him to bait him into a game of cards.

He took great pleasure in grounding the man into dust for the first three games, but rather than be put off by such crushing defeat, a wide, ridiculous grin broke out across his opponent’s face, and he was praised with the words, “Oh, you’re _good_.”

And that was it. That simple phrase sent shivers through Arthur and nearly left him short of breath. It was rare his efforts in anything were commended. His father didn’t believe in inflating anyone’s ego and that the end results were enough of a compliment.

The man proceeded then to up his game and prove he was a bit of a card shark, shamefully walking off the train with only five dollars in his pocket. 

“Ah, Arthur!” his father greeted at the station. “I want you to meet someone.”

Arthur found himself facing the man who now held the majority of his savings. 

“This is Merlin. He’s to be our banker.”

Pride wounded, Arthur would have happily lived out his days avoiding Merlin, but that was a bit hard to do when his father was constantly sending him to the bank with sacks of gold to be measured out and exchanged.

What made it worth it was Merlin’s constant enthusiasm.

“And you just lugged this huge chunk out of the ground yourself? I would have broken my back just trying! All that strength! It must be to make up for your slight lack of brains.”

“That was a great haul last Tuesday. Gaius even plans on closing up shop in New York to go meet it on the docks, can you believe it? You guys are doing a great job out there!”

“Arthur? Wow. You look…wow. Uh…you clean up really well!”

Tonight there was a dinner party at the mayor’s, and with their new upstanding position in high society, the Pendragons had been invited.

Arthur hated the stuffy suit, but couldn’t help but preen under Merlin’s appreciative eye.

“I clean up well? That’s the best you have to offer me?”

Merlin’s pupils were blown wide as Arthur slowly approached.

“You look…edible,” Merlin breathed.

Arthur’s pants went from too tight to unbearable.

The rest of the night was torture. Arthur couldn’t look at Merlin without feeling like he was throbbing against his zipper, and every word that passed from his father’s lips seemed determined to cut down every ounce of praise Arthur had ever been given.

“Honestly, I send him to town and he disappears for half a day!”

“If he didn’t insist on keeping the loads so light to carry back, I’m sure we’d be making double what we are now.”

“I suppose. You should see his sister, though. Now _there’s_ a real beauty.”

“Arthur, stop drinking so much before you do something embarrassing.”

Unwilling to deal with anymore, Arthur took his shot of bourbon outside, only so stumble across a hiccupping Merlin.

“…What.”

Merlin glared. “I get the hiccups when I’ve had too much to drink. Don’t you dare laugh, it was already embarrassing enough in there as it is.”

Arthur thought it was adorable.

He rested his drink on the low brick wall and began stalking towards Merlin.

“What?” Merlin asked petulantly, stumbling back into the shadows of the house when Arthur failed to stop an acceptable distance away.

“ _Mer_ lin.” Arthur really enjoyed saying that name. “Tell me how good I am.”

“I hardly think your ego needs any more inflating—”

Arthur pinned him against the house’s wall. “Tell me how much you think about me.”

Merlin gasped as Arthur pressed their hips together.

“Oh! _Oh…_ You—you’re making it really hard for me to complete a sentence.”

Arthur’s hips continued to circle before he decided shoving his thigh between Merlin’s legs would feel much better. 

“ _God!_ Arthur! That’s—oh, that’s nice.”

Arthur’s hips began moving in a very distinct rhythm.

“I’m always thinking of you. Love watching when you bend over to pick up your sacks. Imaging how you could pin me down. How you would t-touch—” Merlin’s hips stuttered and he gripped at Arthur’s jacket. “I’ve never—this—I’m—” 

And then Merlin stiffened, and Arthur could feel his straining cock pulsing rapidly against his hipbone.

Arthur surged against him, licking down his neck as Merlin gasped for air before slumping.

“You’re good, Arthur,” Merlin murmured. “So good.”

White exploded through Arthur’s vision and the cry he let out was far too loud for where they were, but as rutting slowed, he found he couldn’t care. 

So long as Merlin continued to hold him in such high regard.

* * *

**24.**

He was standing in front of the mirror with the fifty-pound dumbbells, and he looked like a douche shrugging and unshrugging his shoulders like that in his stupid gym shorts and gray muscle shirt, his dark skin visibly damp. Vivian had to squeeze in near him to get her twenty-pound weights, and he smelled like delicious sweaty man, and it was not _fair_.

She wasn’t sure what she was doing wrong. She worked out at the same time he did, organized her circuit in a way that always had them bumping into each other near the free weights, and her spandex game was on point, but it had been months, and Hottie-with-a-Body still hadn’t talked to her. She even tried leaving out her headphones a couple times, and nothing. The amount of thought she had put into this for the pathetic lack of payoff was frankly embarrassing.

Halfway through her second set of single-leg squats, Hottie-Body broke Vivan’s eye contact with herself in the mirror, his shirt soaked through and clinging to his body. She watched his plump, firm-looking ass as he walked over to his cubby and started changing into his street shoes. Vivian did a half-assed job on her last few squats and re-racked her weights, because she’d had just about enough of being ignored, and she wasn’t going to let him sneak out _again_.

“Are you gay?” Vivian said, trailing him out the door. He stopped on the sidewalk and turned to look at her.

“What?” HB’s voice, it turned out, was deep and smooth, and it irritated Vivian that a gay guy should become _more_ attractive to her and not less.

“I’m wondering if you’re gay,” Vivian said. “Because I’m hot as fuck, and it doesn’t seem like you’ve noticed.”

HB’s mouth opened and closed as he squinted down at her, and Vivian suddenly felt very short. Annoyed, she said, “Okay, but this really isn’t a hard question.”

“Let’s start again,” he said, and his lips were strained as though he was suppressing a smile. It was bothersome. “I’m Elyan.”

“Vivian. Gay?”

“Not gay,” Elyan said. “Not blind, either.”

“Then are you stupid? Because how have you not noti—”

It turned out he _had_ noticed. He noticed as he pushed his hands against her belly and backed her into the scratchy concrete wall, and he noticed when he sucked the sweat from her neck and licked her own taste back into her mouth. He noticed on the short walk back to her apartment with his hand stuck down the front of her pants as she fumbled with her keys.

Vivian felt tiny when Elyan picked her up by the ass and climbed onto the bed with her, lying on his back and settling her on top of him. Naturally, his gym shorts concealed nothing, and the hard press of his cock against her through her two thin layers of spandex was thoroughly distracting.

Elyan struggled with Vivian’s sports bra as she wriggled out of her skin-tight capris and panties, and they were both breathless and laughing by the time she was unclothed. Vivian shoved Elyan’s shirt up to his armpits, but his hands were insistent on her thighs, hauling her up to straddle his face.

“Noooo, I have to shower!” Vivian whined, trying to wiggle away, but Elyan’s strong grip held her firmly in place as he pressed his nose to her cunt and inhaled loudly.

“No, you don’t,” he said, which was all the invitation Vivian needed to climb fully onto his face and press against his mouth.

It had been a _very_ long time since she had gotten laid, and Elyan’s tongue felt like sweet, liquid fire, and she was probably a bit high on endorphins, and it all narrowed down to Vivian riding Elyan’s face rough and fast. She was vaguely aware of how one of Elyan’s hands had left her ass and the muscles in his shoulder twitched, and the noises he made while he licked and sucked at her were obscene and hot as fuck. When she came, she actually _screamed_ , like the demons of celibacy were being released.

Vivian sat back on Elyan’s chest, admiring how fucking hot he looked as he jerked himself off, slick lips parted and brow furrowed. He laughed through his orgasm, and it was one of the most goddamn charming things she’d ever seen.

Lying next to him in her sweaty bed, Vivian looked over at Elyan and said, “So not gay, then.”

“Not gay.”

* * *

**25.**

The engines groan, and Morgana wants to groan with them. The shuttle pushes upward out of the atmosphere, rockets roaring. As she's pushed back into her seat by several Gs worth of pressure, the little piece of foam-covered plastic inside her cunt shifts, pressing in and up against her g-spot.

The vibrations as the first rocket pulls away leave her gasping and clutching at her seat. She wonders how she'll make it all the way out of the gravity well before coming.

Innocently, Vivian beside her tongues on her mic and asks, "Morgana? Is everything okay?"

Morgana bites back both a groan and the words 'I hate you'.

"Fine," she spits out, and resigns herself to another set of headlines talking about the rivalry between them.

Then she tongues off her mic so she can whimper aloud.

\--------

_1 week earlier_

"I have no idea why we're even discussing this. She'll never do it."

Vivian waves a hand casually at the reboot of Sex and the City playing in the background. The scene skips instantly past some guest star monologuing about his penis like it's relevant to the plot.

Vivian continues, "She's Morgana fucking Pendragon. She would never put a toe out of line, let alone do something that could get her scrapped from the active list."

"Tintagel, actually," Morgana corrects. "I kept my name when I was adopted, which you would know if you ever read anything but your own press." She pauses, let's the air get tight with expectation as curious, eager, and slightly wide-eyed faces turn toward her like flowers to the sun. "And I will win your stupid challenge."

"That's the spirit!" Elena grins, sloshing non-alcoholic beer on the floor as she cheers.

The new girl, Freya (fluid dynamics, Belfast undergrad, CalTech for her PhD), looks utterly scandalized and a little excited. "They don't do a body scan right before you board?"

"The day before," Morgana says. "And they check weight before boarding, but there's a 1-kilo allowance for normal daily variation."

"It will have to be small and plastic," Mithian says, tapping one fingernail to her lips. "Less than three ounces can be recycled through the 3D printer without raising alarms, if you don't want to bring it back down the same way."

Suddenly Gwen is smiling in that way that means danger. Morgana's pussy clenches.

"I have just the thing," Gwen says.

\--------

It's exactly as uncomfortable to walk around with a plastic ball clenched inside her cunt as it sounds.

She's briefed on last-minute changes (none important), suited (umph, bending over), weighed ("Drink a lot last night, Morgana?" "Very funny, Aparna." "Well, you're still within allowance, but try not to guzzle the sports drinks before takeoff"), and finally seated in the cabin.

At this point, she's wondering why she agreed to this.

Then the checks finish, the countdown begins, and the shuttle starts to shake.

Morgana's eyes roll up.

\--------

There is exactly zero privacy on board a tiny station with thirty other people. Morgana floats in the toilet stall and considers her options. The idea of recycling it in the printer doesn't appeal - they make mission-critical tools with that thing.

Sighing, she takes the pale pink ball and shoves it back between the puffy lips of her cunt. Because every shift makes her hot and because, frankly, Morgana hates to lose.

Vivian is waiting when she comes out of the toilet stall, arms crossed as she floats upside down. She raises one eyebrow.

Morgana smile secretively, and Vivian's eyes go wide.

\--------

They got out of their landing suits all of 10 minutes ago, and Vivian has already cornered her in the ladies changing room.

"Prove it," she hisses. "You can't possibly have - not the whole week."

Morgana feels her lips curl up at the edges in a dangerous smile. She's half naked already, so she slides her pants off and settles back on her towel on the bench, lifting her knees.

"Why don't you check?" she asks. Vivian looks flustered. In her victory, Morgana can afford to be magnanimous, so she slides her fingers into herself and eases the ball out between two fingers. It leaves her feeling empty, with a strong desire to press her legs together and rub.

Wide-eyed, Vivian looks down at the damp little ball between Morgana's fingers.

Morgana clears her throat. "I believe, by the terms of the challenge, I won. So. Truth or dare?"

Vivian bites her lip and blurts, "Dare."

* * *

**26.**

There were many things Merlin wanted from his relaxing sea-side holiday, like the smell of the sea, reading in the little café by the beach, burrowing under the blankets in the morning while he listened to the waves. None of those things included his ex-boyfriend. 

It was therefore no surprise when Arthur slid into a seat at the café, completely oblivious to the world and the fact that Merlin was dying a slow, painful death. 

A slight breeze ruffled Arthur’s hair, as well as his newspaper. It’d been a year at least since they’d run into each other by the corner shop only to struggle through a halting conversation and count down the seconds until it was alright to leave. Merlin couldn’t quite figure out if Arthur’s hair was longer now or if his memory was faulty. 

Merlin thought that he might be able to make his escape until the very moment he found himself looking straight into Arthur’s surprised face. Anger he hadn’t touched on for a very long time burned like fire in his gut and he turned away. 

“Wow. Not even a little nod to spare?” 

Hearing Arthur’s voice was strange. Even with the scathing tone, it brought back long Sunday mornings, dinners in their tiny kitchen, Arthur’s soothing voice in his ear after Will’s funeral, an entire life he’d lost under the rubble of their relationship. 

It made him angrier. 

“Hello. Didn’t see you there.” 

Arthur snorted. “Guess old age has taken a toll on your eyes.”

“Right,” Merlin said and put his book down. “So how’s forty treating you, then? Still able to get it up?”

“Why, speaking from experience?”

The absurdity of the conversation almost made Merlin laugh, but the urge died as he remembered the plans they’d made for Arthur’s 40th birthday. He wondered if Arthur had followed through on any of them. 

He thought of the adoption papers he’d stuffed into the desk drawers he’d never opened since he moved. 

The fire blazed red hot.

*

Merlin pressed his face into the pillow, determined to hold back his moans and hide his burning cheeks. The grip on his hips was bruising, fingers dug into his flesh to drag him back into the thrust. Arthur fucked him with angry jabs, rhythm steady and just this side of too slow. The only thing that betrayed Arthur’s calm was his laboured breath.

Merlin met every thrust as his frustration built. The punishing force of them couldn’t quite make up for the poor angle or the agonisingly slow pace. 

Merlin looked over his shoulder. “Come on, just _fuck_ me, you piece of shit.”

“Shut up.” Arthur’s hand splayed out between his shoulder blades and pushed him down into the sheets. 

Merlin opened his mouth in a silent shout as Arthur finally fucked him properly, the sound of their skin obscene in the stillness of the bedroom. He rutted back onto Arthur’s dick, shameless in his need to just fucking come, just get off on Arthur’s cock and throw him out of here so he could forget ever having seen the now-greying hairs Arthur had always boasted about lacking. 

The hand on his back eased the pressure, brushed down across his ribs and came to rest on his stomach. Merlin panted, confused, his skin tingling oddly where Arthur’s other hand ghosted across his hipbone. The pace slowed and then Arthur’s body covered his, hot along his back as he was pushed down flat on the mattress. 

Merlin turned his head just as Arthur’s breath brushed across his shoulder. He shivered. 

Arthur fucked him slow and deep and the angle was just there, just where it should be.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this,” Arthur said, lips brushing his ear. 

Heat spread to the tip of Merlin’s fingers and he bit down on his bottom lip, stubborn moans threatening to spill out. 

“You’re such a perfect fuck. Always eager, always so good for me.”

Merlin pressed up into the roll of Arthur’s hips, lost in the familiar words in his ear. When Arthur kissed the side of his mouth, finding mostly stubble, Merlin chased it, his heart beating rapidly as he met Arthur’s tongue. 

“Never thought you’d do this for me again,” Arthur said against his lips. “Be so good for me.”

Merlin’s fingers curled into the sheets. He gave up hiding how good it was and moaned pitifully.

“I want to come home.” Arthur’s words were muffled against his shoulder. 

Merlin sank boneless into the bed. “Yes.”

* * *

**27.**

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” the man said. His voice sounded familiar. Maybe Arthur had heard him talking during his walks through the lower towns. He tried not to ponder on the identity of the man. It didn’t matter who the man was. The King of Camelot should not be found on his hands and knees with some random man’s fingers in his arse while the man whispered filthy words into his ear. He knew it’s a risk, but he had to do this, couldn’t keep on without this for another day.

He didn’t do this often. He only came to this place when the weight of the crown on his head got too much for him to bear alone, and he snapped a little too often at Merlin, worked his knights just that much harder, when the stable boys or squires who eagerly tumbled into his bed weren’t enough to help him fuck the stress away. Those were the kind of times he found himself putting on his oldest, most unremarkable cloak and making his way to the lower town in the middle of the night. He’d known which tavern to enter ever since he was sixteen, and he’d heard some of his older knights talking about the things the lower town people got up to at night.

Arthur knew that he could always ask Merlin for this, that Merlin wouldn’t hesitate before bending him over and—Arthur shook his head and concentrated on the feeling of fingers in his arse. Three. The man behind him twisted his fingers and Arthur let out a loud moan.

“Gonna make you come so hard,” the man said, breath ghosting over Arthur’s ear. “You like this, huh?” he said, he twisted his fingers again and pressed the tips of all three fingers against that sweet spot inside him, forcing another loud moan from Arthur.

“Do you want something else? Something better,” the man said in his ear, biting the tip of his ear lightly.

“Just get on with it,” Arthur grumbled, closing his eyes and widening his stance. The man’s voice was too familiar for all this talk to be comfortable. Arthur was glad for the darkness in the room. The only light in the room was the faint moonlight that filtered in through the window.

“Desperate, are we?” the man said, a smile in his voice. “I’ll get on with it. I’ll get on with it hard.”

Arthur nearly snorted at that. But before he could, the man was lining his cock up and pushing inside. Arthur pushed his head back and moaned. He thought of how Merlin would feel inside of him, with his body draped around Arthur’s back. Arthur imagined Merlin saying the filthy words that spilled from the man’s lips.

The man pulled almost all the way out before thrusting in. He fucked Arthur for a few more seconds, and then adjusted the angle and pushed in hard. His cock slammed against that spot inside of him, again and again until Arthur was lost in the sensation. 

The man thrust in a few more times, and then carded one hand through Arthur’s hair and wrapped the other around Arthur’s cock and started stripping it ruthlessly. He could feel his orgasm building.

“Come for me, Princess,” the man breathed against his ear. Arthur felt his eyes widen. He knew of only one person who called him that.

“Gwaine,” Arthur gasped, and came.


	7. Chapter 7

**28.**

“You're not Gaius!” comes instead of greeting for what might be the tenth time that day. 

“Obviously,” Merlin allows himself at least a tiny bit of sarcasm. “I'm Merlin Emrys, Gaius' new assistant.”

“Oh, okay. I'll just come over some other time.”

“I meant medical assistant, not a PA,” Merlin says, grinning. “I'm here to help you guys. What's your name?”

The guy eyes him rather warily, but introduces himself.

“Great, Arthur!” Merlin grins at him again. “What brings you here?”

 

~x~

 

“What have I told you about over-training?” Merlin chastises Arthur, digging his fingers deeper into the knotted muscle of Arthur's left thigh. 

He kind of enjoys Arthur's hiss of pain and the sight of his fingers clenched around the side of the massage table. The stubborn prat deserves a bit of suffering for being unreasonable hot head. 

“I need to be prepared,” Arthur mumbles petulantly. 

“It doesn't work like this and you know that,” Merlin says, pressing once more.

He knows he did a good job, watching Arthur's whole body relax. He hates and loves these moments. Arthur's usual pride giving way to shy vulnerability. It's beautiful to watch. Completely mesmerizing. He yearns to drag his palms up and down the golden body splayed in front of him, and definitely not in a professional manner. 

 

~x~

 

Merlin's heart stops for a second or two. Or at least it feels that way. He runs towards the parallel bars, eyes on Arthur's crumpled form, watching him curl into a ball in pain. 

“Arthur, are you with me?” he asks as he lands beside him, almost shouting to be heard over the hum coming from tribunes. 

A whimper escapes Arthur's lips and Merlin's heart skips a beat again. This is so bad. He'd only ever heard Arthur hiss or grunt in pain.

“You'll be okay,” he promises him.

 

~x~

 

“I'm more than ready to go back to training,” Arthur says, shedding his T-shirt and trousers and hopping up on the examination table.

“That's not your decision to make,” Merlin says and starts by checking the bruising on Arthur's abdomen. “You fell on that piece of wood with all your weight. I keep telling you to be glad nothing actually severe happen.” 

He gently palpates Arthur's lower belly. 

“You could still hurt yourself more by overdoing it now, so don't be such a prat.”

Merlin glances up at hearing a sudden intake of breath.

“Does that hurt?”

“No,” Arthur says, tensing.

“Are you sure?” Merlin asks, getting a nod in response.

Yet, Arthur's growing tense with each passing second. Just to be sure, Merlin starts again, watching Arthur's face for any sign of pain. Instead Arthur turns his head away, biting his lip. The reality of massaging an 18-year-old teenager mere inches away from his genitals catches up with him, making him remember all the embarrassing moments when his cock decided to be inconveniently oversensitive. 

He pulls his hands away from Arthur's body, pushing away the idea that Arthur might have seemed disappointed by that. 

“Hold on until the final check-up on Friday, okay?”

 

~x~

 

“Try to take even breaths. It'll make it easier,” Merlin says, about to move his right index finger inside Arthur's fairly tightly clenched pucker, his other hand resting on Arthur's hip. 

“You're doing good,” he says, trying for fast and efficient yet as non-intruding as possible which he knows is pretty much impossible while sticking his finger up someone's bum. He hates to see the slight tremble in Arthur's limbs.

“Everything seems just fine,” he adds after a while, making final sweep over Arthur's prostate.

A shudder runs through Arthur's whole body.

“Merlin,” he moans, shocking him and making him a bit less careful when pulling his finger out.

Even then he can feel the first clench of what must be Arthur's climax.

“God,” Merlin breathes out, his knees going a bit weak. 

He sees Arthur peeking at him with the most heartbreakingly hopeful expression and he just can't. Arthur's still a high school student. And his patient! 

He starts to back away towards the door.

“Don't...” Arthur calls out, pretty much falling down the table. “Don't tell my father, please,” he begs, tears running down his cheeks. 

He can do nothing but wrap Arthur in a tight hug to wipe the terror from his eyes.   
~x~

 

He doesn't let Arthur kiss him that day. Nor the 145 days that follow.

But he's the one to kiss Arthur on his graduation day, the diploma crushed between their bodies.

* * *

**29.**

Merlin tapped his toes as he sat on the tube and listened to music. He chose to do some people watching. He briefly looked to his left and almost did a double take when he took in the blonde next to him.

Merlin rolled his tongue back into his mouth. When he looked over again he noticed that the man was actually staring at Merlin.

When Merlin turned to him, they locked eyes. At the next stop, he felt something being slipped under his thigh. 

Merlin took out the note as he watched the devilishly handsome blonde stand up. When he unfolded the note he gasped.

_Your ears are so sexy. I just want to grab onto them while you take my cock down your throat._

Merlin’s head whipped up and looked over at the doors. The man winked over at Merlin and then was swallowed up in the crowd.

Merlin stared at the note and was now beside himself. What if he never saw that man again? 

But he didn’t have to be worried about that. The next day, as he started his people watching routine, he saw the attractive blonde get on. He didn’t say anything about the note. He just grinned at Merlin. The way his eyes crinkled up made Merlin want to say to hell with public decorum and mount him right then and there.

About ten minutes before Merlin’s stop, as he started to despair that he would get nothing new from the man, another note was slipped under his leg.

The man eyed Merlin intently as he opened it. Once again the note was so filthy that Merlin thought he would swallow his tongue.

_I couldn’t stop touching myself last night. He kept wondering what your cock would feel like buried balls deep inside of me._

Merlin could feel something in his eyes - he wasn’t sure if it was sweat, tears, or both. He blinked them away when he noticed something else at the bottom of the note.

_Follow me if you want to learn what my cock tastes like._

The brakes squealed and everyone started to disembark. The man got up and looked over his shoulder. For once, he looked slightly wary as he waited to see what Merlin was going to do. 

Merlin briefly considered his options, before he bolted up and fought his way through the crowd. He saw the man grin as he started to walk away. 

Merlin followed him for about five minutes. They got to a posh building and the blonde looked over his shoulder one more time as he entered a room on the first floor.

Merlin as he stepped in. Suddenly, he found himself pressed up against a wall by the door. For a split second, he worried that he had seriously misread the situation.

But soon he felt the man drape himself against Merlin’s back and lick slowly up the shell of his ear. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Merlin was so hard already.

The man rubbed his clothed cock up against Merlin’s arse. He bit down on one Merlin’s right earlobe. “You really weren’t kidding about these ears.”

In his lust-filled haze, Merlin wondered briefly what he meant by that, but all thoughts flew out of his brain as the blonde flicked his tongue in Merlin’s ear and thrust it in and out at the same time he reached in Merlin’s trousers and began to stroke his cock.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard and make you scream my name. You won’t ever be able to get off with another man without hearing my name in your ears.”

Merlin licked his lips as the man unbuckled Merlin’s belt. “It would be helpful to know your name then.”

The blonde paused suddenly and raised his eyebrow up. “You don’t remember my name?”

“You never told me it.”

The man took a step back. “Of course I did. You’re Howie from the fetlife website?”

Realization hit Merlin. He pulled up his pants. “No, my name’s Merlin.”

The man looked red-faced. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. He said that he would be on the tube and you looked just like he described…”

They just stared at each other awkwardly. 

“I’m Arthur, by the way.”

Merlin tried to shake his hand, but when his trousers slipped he pulled away and held on to them. Merlin wondered if he should make a hasty retreat. He started to say good-bye.

“It’s a shame. Your ears...they’re perfect.” Arthur grinned.

It took Merlin a few seconds before he made a quick decision and pulled Arthur in for a sloppy kiss. He pulled back. “We’ll just call this a happy accident.”

* * *

**30.**

**Sweet O’ Heart Of Mine**

_“Merlin,”_ Arthur practically growled, pressing him up against the wall, caging him in. “Don’t you ever do that again. Ever.”

“Well, howdy to you too, Sheriff” Merlin said with a smile, very comfortable despite Arthur invading his personal space. 

He’s sunburnt, Arthur noticed. There was a dusting of red on Merlin’s nose and the tips of his ears. Other than that he looks none the worse for wear. 

“You can’t pull stunts like that,” Arthur said, both frustrated and worried at the same time. He supposes that’s what love is. To both fret and adore. “Going to the next town all by your lonesome. You could’ve been hurt.” _Or worse._ By the gods, in this lawless land, it could’ve been so much worse. 

“There was no other way.” Merlin explained. “I’m not going to sit here and do nothin’ when the vaccine was just a town away. Missus LeFaye’s girls needed it. _“Arthur,”_ he said, voice gentle, feeling so much like a caress that Arthur couldn’t help but lean into the softness of Merlin’s voice. “I’m okay, truly. You’re just a worrywart.”

“You’ve more guts than sense,” Arthur grumbled, resting his forehead upon Merlin’s shoulder. He can’t go through this again, can’t have Merlin go gettin’ himself into trouble without having him _know._

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked, concern in his voice as he brought his hand up to card through Arthur’s hair. 

They’ve always been like this in private, less than lovers, more than friends. Until now. 

“I’m sweet on you,” Arthur confessed. It’s stupid, how badly his heart pounds at those words. He’s fought in wars, participated in duels, caught outlaws without even a sweat and yet waiting for Merlin’s reply had him quaking in his boots. 

“I’m smitten for you too,” Merlin said, easy as pie, silly grin on his face. “More than smitten, in fact.” 

“Good.” Arthur says, before leaning up for a kiss. It’s not sweet, not at all gentle. There’s a hunger, a desperate need that Merlin seemed to share as well. 

They kiss like it was the last time, even though they knew, that this was just the beginning. 

Their tongues lapped at each other as Arthur trailed his hand downwards, leaving a trail of bared flesh before plucking at the buttons on Merlin’s trousers. 

Merlin gasped, made this pinched little whine as Arthur grasped his cock and stroked him. “A-Arthur,” he stuttered, hips hitching into Arthur’s touch. “More.”

“I knew you’d be like this,” Arthur said in between dappling Merlin’s lips with kisses. 

Merlin moaned, trying to fuck Arthur’s fist while his hands clawed at Arthur’s back. “Like?”

“Needy.” Arthur tugged on Merlin’s balls, palmed at them before playing with the wet tip of Merlin’s cock. “Desperate,” he mumbled, suckling a wide, red hickey on nape of Merlin’s neck. “Perfect for me.” 

“Prat,” Merlin huffed, trailing his hands across Arthur’s chest to tear open his shirt.

“Oi,” Arthur said with a chiding nip on one of Merlin’s ears. “You’re going to have to mend that later.”

Merlin laughs, totally unconvinced. He traces patterns along Arthur’s chest, plays with those dusky nipples before travelling lower to undo Arthur’s belt. “I want this in me,” he demanded, stroking Arthur’s cock in a possessive manner, getting his fingers slick with precome. 

“Later,” Arthur promised. Then he’s gripped both their cocks, rubbing them together. The friction took their breath away, had Merlin rolling his eyes back as his head thumped against the wall. 

“Arthur, Arthur,” he babbled,” lost in the pleasure shared between them. His face was adoringly pinched, sweat at his temples as his mouth formed a perfect, enticing ‘o’.

“There’s so much-” Arthur grunted, precome slickening his fingers, making his grip glide over their cocks. “I want to do to you.” Later, in the safety of their own homes and not in one of Missus’ LeFaye’s guestrooms. He’ll fuck Merlin’s mouth, that lovely bottom, make love of every inch of Merlin and worship every inch of lovely, pale flesh. 

He bit down onto Merlin’s shoulder and came, spurting over his fingers. He was still rocking into Merlin, rubbing against him while he brought Merlin to his own completion. 

Then, while they were both panting for breath and Merlin looked woozy with the afterglow of his orgasm. Arthur leaned up, and kissed Merlin on the forehead, soft, tender and so very sincere.

* * *

**31.**

He has seen them before; all the peoples on this side of the cluster come to _Avalon V_ after all. But they are...

Different.

Some say the Druids are the most ancient race in the universe, others that they've special limbs, extra sex organs, and still others whisper that it's the pheromones they have, makes them want to hit the floor like they do.

Arthur sees them all the time, but still he watches, licks his lips.

\---

Merlin has long, long fingers and eyes that can gleam like a trick of the light, that catch on Arthur's skin from across the central plaza and wake him deep in the night, sweaty and shaking.

\---

"Fuck, Arthur, _you shouldn't be here_. Get out! This is a Druid club! They're going to put the crowd Under, it isn't safe, _dammit_."

Just as Arthur's about to tell Merlin exactly what he thinks of that – putting the crowd Under, what bollocks – a wave sweeps through as the beat drops, and so do Arthur's knees.

\---

He drops. And drops.

And for once he finally understands what that means.

It's like floating.

\---

" _Arthur, I need you to follow me, okay? I'll take care of you, I promise._ "

\---

The throb carries him along, hazy, indistinct, and he pulses with it. Still falling, _and falling_.

But Merlin's sure arms wrap around him, show him how to walk again, anchored. Safe. And Arthur flows.

\---  
" _Here, this rug's soft, you can kneel. No one'll come in, it's only me._ " Merlin's voice is soft, soothing, and he touches Arthur, so gently.

Arthur grins. This, this is what he's always dreamt of in the quiet dark.

" _God, Arthur, you shouldn't've been able to get in the club. Shouldn't've known where it even_ was. _Were you following someone?_ "

And Arthur beams, head tipped up at Merlin's concerned face, because he knows the answer. "You, of course, I'd follow you anywhere," he slurs, tongue thick and heavy – but it doesn't matter, Merlin'll take care of him, he _promised_.

Merlin's eyes widen and he jerks back, a strangled sound caught in his throat. He closes his eyes and breathes.

" _Bleeding fuck, Arthur. That's– Fucking hell,_ " he pauses and looks back down at Arthur again, something almost frantic. " _God, you've no idea what you do to me. How gorgeous you are._ "

Arthur's entire body flushes at the praise, a shiver of satisfaction coiling low in his belly; he whimpers.

" _Shit, okay. But you shouldn't've been there, this kind of drop's extremely dangerous to non-Druids. It'll kill you if I don't guide you through, your body won't be able to adjust._ " Merlin exhales and Arthur twitches at the faint puff on his skin. " _It'll be easier with– sexual contact. Do you trust–_ "

"Yes," Arthur moans before Merlin can finish. _Yesyesyes_ , he trusts, he wants, needs to feel Merlin's fingers and his tongue. All that corded muscle that must be underneath.

_His prick._ He whines at the thought. _Now, he needs it now._

And then Merlin is blessedly, mercifully there, hands in Arthur's hair, petting him like he's treasured, and Arthur cries. More, he needs _more_.

" _I've got you, promise, suck on this for me, will you, love. So good for me. So good._ " Arthur calms at the feel of Merlin's thumb at his lips, on his tongue, and breathes in Merlin's scent, glowing at the praise.

\---

When Merlin stretches Arthur across his lap, Arthur begs for Merlin to smack his arse until it's red and aching and _Merlin's, he only wants to be Merlin's, please_ , and Merlin makes the most wounded noise Arthur's ever heard, striking his arse ruddy and then jamming in there, getting at where it aches and riding Arthur's prostate until he thinks he'll cry.

Because he can't, _he can't_ , Merlin's strung up his cock with a pretty little cock ring, rambling straight into Arthur's ear, because "you're so good, Arthur, I've dreamt about this for so long."

Arthur is too incoherent to reply: _me too_.

But then Merlin puts him back on his knees, and he always wants to be on his knees, right here, right for Merlin, and holds Arthur still with strong, _strong_ hands until Arthur has no choice but to choke on Merlin's cock.

And he loves it. He _loves it_ , and he never wants it to stop, this slow fucking on his tongue, even when tears streak down his face and into his collarbones. It's _everything_ in that moment, the universe condensed down to Merlin's care.

\---

For the first time in his life Arthur lets go.

* * *

**32.**

“You know what I’d like to do to you?” Merlin says lazily. “I’d like to fuck your mouth. I’d like to push you onto your knees and feed you my cock. Watch your pretty red lips stretch tight around it, gasping for air as I thrust it in. Make you kneel there and just take it, take my cock until you’re gagging, panting, drooling around it, and you can’t do anything but let me fuck your face until I’m satisfied. Until I come in your hot little mouth and refuse to pull out till you’ve swallowed every last drop, and thanked me for it. Until I can see in your eyes how much you love the way I fucking _own_ you.”

Arthur barely blinks.

They’re in detention for fighting. Again. After the first two days of furiously whispered arguments while Mr Gaius frowned at them from the front, they were trying something different. Merlin can’t remember who said the first filthy thing, who introduced this new game for the two of them to play, but it doesn’t matter now. 

All that matters is he wins.

“The next time we play football at break,” Arthur says quietly. “And you let in another goal – because you _will_ let in another goal Merlin, you’re beyond useless – I’m gonna spank you. In front of everyone in our year, I’m gonna bend you over, pull down your jeans and boxers, and spank your tight little arse until you cry. And everyone watching will know that you belong to me now, that you’re mine to discipline and punish. And when I lick all those humiliated tears off your face you’ll know it too.”

Jesus Christ. 

It’s not the first time Merlin’s got hard playing this game, but that’s probably the fastest it’s ever happened. Nothing Arthur’s saying _should_ turn him on and yet the dirty-wrong idea of being shamed like that, so publicly, everyone watching as Arthur claims him…

Merlin regroups quickly. Arthur’s staring straight ahead, a beatific smile on his face. God, Merlin wants to make him squirm.

He leans in close.

“You’re a virgin, right?” 

Arthur twitches and Merlin smirks.

“Don’t bother lying, I can tell. It’s written all over you. God, you must be desperate for something in that needy hole of yours by now. I wonder if you could come on my fingers alone? Stretched out behind the bike sheds, spreading your legs for me to fuck my fingers up inside you. Maybe I’d shove my tongue in there too, lick you out until you’re begging for my cock, pushing your hungry arse up in the air. But you haven’t been a good boy and earned it so I just milk you dry with my fingers, other hand clamped tight around your cock so you can’t come, you only get what little release I allow you.”

 

Arthur makes a funny choking noise and Mr Gaius looks up sharply. Merlin smiles, bland and reassuring.  
Arthur waits until Mr Gaius looks away before speaking again.

“Tomorrow morning,” he says intently. “I’m gonna drag you into the toilets and lock you in a cubicle with me. Then I’m gonna take a little remote control vibrator, and I’m gonna shove it up your arse. You won’t take it out, because I’ve told you to be a good boy for me, and you know what happens when you disobey. I’m gonna sit next to you in class all day and every time the teacher or a classmate talks to you, I’m gonna turn it up. Watch you squirm as that thing vibrates in your little hole, watch you blush and stammer as you try to keep yourself from moaning out loud. But you won’t be able to, not when I turn it all the way up and you come with a scream, and it soaks through your jeans so everyone can see what a dirty slut you really are-”

“Time, boys,” Mr Gaius announces, already halfway out the door. “See you tomorrow.”

Merlin lets out a shaky breath. 

Then he’s straddling Arthur’s lap, rubbing up against him desperately, listening to Arthur groan in arousal as he works his fingers into the back of Merlin’s jeans. Merlin gets his hands down Arthur’s boxers and starts to jerk him off with rough strokes while Arthur slips a finger inside him and they’re panting and they’re gasping and they’re sweating and…

Arthur comes first. Merlin chalks that up to a win for himself. 

But he’s open to a rematch.

* * *

**33.**

Setting: Antiquity (Scythian AU with dragons and magic)  
Trope: Kidnapped (taken in battle)  
Kink: Virginity (Merlin is a virgin)

 

There was a male slave in attendance when Merlin entered his father's tent, upon his return with the dragons from the high pastures. 

He was Merlin's age, and as stocky and powerful as a snow leopard. He had hair the colour of larch wood, wide-set blue eyes, and a firm jaw. His mouth – made for guffaws and bragging – was frozen into sullen silence.

"You've known nothing but mountains and dragons all summer," Balinor said, once Merlin had settled next to him. "Let me offer you something else. A gift, for your coming of age." 

The slave came and knelt on the rug in front of them. He met Merlin's gaze, and did not look away. Instead it was Merlin who averted his eyes. When Merlin looked again the slave had removed his loincloth, and his expression had gone blank. 

The slave turned around and settled in the submissive position. Merlin had never seen a man like that, and felt his face heat up. Having a slave displayed did not normally arouse anything in him but pity, but those slaves were always girls. 

He tried to look without seeing. He pretended he was watching the land stretch out from a moutaintop. The slave's buttocks became the holy mounds of the ancestors; his spine a river valley; his muscles foothills; the hollows of his lower backs dried ponds in summer. 

Balinor ruined the illusion. He moved in, and parted the slave's buttocks. His tattoo-covered arms –emblem of the Dragonlord caste – were dark against the slave's unmarked skin.

He spat on the fingers of one hand, and placed them where no one should want to touch another. The slave curved his back, and a groan escaped his lips. He pressed against Balinor's hand, and his skin sank easily, springy like the steppe at snow-melt. Fluid rose around the intrusion. 

Merlin's eyes widened.

Balinor pulled out, and his fingers disengaged with a sucking noise, as if the slave's arse was loathe to part with them.

"He'll wet for his master, and he'll always enjoy being used. Something in him is attracted to our magic, poor wretch. He was taken in battle. They say he was a fearless warrior, but now he's just a bedslave."

He opened his robe and lowered his trousers. He coated himself with the slick on his fingers, and penetrated the slave with one thrust. It shouldn't fit, but it did. The slave keened as he was speared. 

Merlin cried out.

He stared as Balinor took a man like he would have taken a woman.

And the slave enjoyed himself. Even if his noises and the way he met each thrust hadn't betrayed him, his hard, leaking length most certainly would have.

Balinor pulled out unspent. His thumb slotted in to fill the void he had left. The gape began to close as he soothed it.

"We paid two gryphon yearlings for him. We realised … You don't enjoy women, do you?"

Merlin was too overwhelmed to question the fortune his parents had parted with, or to deny what they had finally understood. Nothing seemed to matter but the angle of the slave's back, and the way in which he rocked against Balinor's thumb. Merlin craved him like he had never craved anything in his life.

 

"Claim him. He's yours."

Merlin unlaced his trousers and nestled the tip of his hardness at the swollen, half-open hole. He hesitated, and the slave took the decision for him. He pushed back, and engulfed him. 

It felt like what a sword must feel like as returned to its sheath; slotting into a place of safety. They both sighed as Merlin bottomed out.

Balinor positioned himself at the other end. Soon the only sounds were the slapping of flesh against flesh and the muted moans spilling from a mouth filled to the brim. 

Spit-roasted between them, the slave's body was like a sacrificial beast. 

Balinor finished first, pulling out to spurt on the slave's face. Merlin followed. The contractions around him told him that he had not been alone.

"I'll have him installed in your tent," Balinor said afterwards. "Now let's have a bath before joining the women. Your mother and sister have missed you."

Merlin turned to the slave, and was going to ask for his name, but the rage in those pale eyes silenced him.

Magic may have shackled the snow leopard; it had not tamed it.

* * *

**34.**

“Good game Pendragon.”

“Emrys.”

They shake hands and Merlin receives the usual post-practice bum pat when there’s a sudden change to the regime – an undeniable pinch. He freezes and turns round but Arthur is already jogging to catch up with Lance, pert little arse bouncing all the way to the change room.

“I’ll catch you up in a minute lads,” Arthur says, clapping a hand on Percy’s shoulder and all but pushing him out the door. “There’s something I need to take care of first.”

Arthur waits until they’re all gone and then turns to face Merlin, wearing an expression that’s downright predatory. Merlin swallows.

And that’s how it begins.

***

It’s nothing obscene, just a couple of mates helping each other get off after the game. Who doesn’t like a post-workout wank? Well apparently not the rest of his team but frankly they’re missing out. Because in Merlin’s book, nothing is better than the strong grip of Arthur’s hand as he fucks into it, still sweaty from the match. Arthur brings him off the same way he plays; with firm, steady strokes and an air that says he’s had a lot of practice at it. 

Merlin’s technique is nowhere near as refined but Arthur never complains, just empties himself with a soft gasp. Part of him wishes he could make Arthur lose control, wonders what it would be like to hear Arthur moan. Then he comes back to his senses and feels like he’s crossed some kind of invisible line by fantasising about his best mate. Which, considering how frequently they have their dicks in each other’s hands, is a bit weird.

***

It finally happens that one day he misses a game. Coach is none too happy but it’s hardly like they’re a pro-league. It’s a school team – Coach can deal. He gets there in time to catch the last five minutes and watch them get absolutely wiped. Thinking that Arthur might be down for a cheer-up wank, he heads for the change room.

Of course, he probably should have announced his arrival. Because then he probably wouldn’t of walked in on Arthur in the showers, jerking-off like it’s going out of style with three fingers up his arse. Arthur opens his eyes and Merlin runs for it, cock digging painfully into his jeans the entire way.

***

It’s not like he fancies Arthur or anything. That would be gay and Merlin is _not_ gay. He went out with Freya for half a term for Christ’s sake! No, Merlin is perfectly confident in his sexuality…except that he can’t seem to get the image of Arthur fingering himself out of his head. And the lovely squelching sounds as he pounded into himself. And the way the water caught on his lips, parted in silent ecstasy.  
Okay maybe he’s a little bit gay.

***

 

Arthur is avoiding him and it’s starting to be a problem. Not only has he gone without a post-game hand job for the last two matches (which his dick is _very_ unimpressed with), but he misses having a laugh with his best mate. That, and they’ve been playing so badly that Coach is just about ready to eat his hat. So Merlin decides to take matters into his own hands and talk it out like responsible human beings.

“Arthur, do you have a minute?”

Arthur looks like he’s going to protest but after a moment seems to think better of it.

“Go on Lance, I’ll call you later.”

Arthur closes the door behind him.

“Merlin-”

“Do you always use your fingers like that?”

“What?” Arthur’s eyes go wide.

“Because it was really fucking hot.”

“I was thinking of you when I did it,” says Arthur, voice hoarse.

Merlin kind of thinks neither of them actually meant to admit these things, but as he crosses the room and crushes his mouth to Arthur’s, he’s really fucking glad they did.

They end up in the showers, a trail of clothes indicating the path he doesn’t remember them taking. He gets Arthur under the spray like before, only this time his tongue replaces Arthur’s fingers.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he whispers, running his tongue in slow circles around Arthur’s rim. “Imagining you wet and moaning for it.”

“Christ Merlin,” Arthur whimpers.

“Knew you’d be noisy. So noisy and beautiful, all for me.”

He stands and replaces his tongue with his cock, lining it up carefully.

“I don’t want you to hold back,” he says, pressing in.

When Arthur comes he wants them to be able to hear it out on the pitch.

* * *

**35.**

A fortnight had passed since Arthur swore his vows and took up his father’s mantel, and already gossip piggybacked on the peasant’s tongues.

“Kanen’s raiders stalk the borderland of Ealdor, seeding the earth with bone,” they murmured.

***

Arthur selected twenty of his knights, commanding their horses into spear-straight lines.

They rode through thicket and forest in search of the raiders; along the knife-edge of sleep.

On the twelfth night the skeletal timbers of Ealdor broke into view. Arthur’s men wove through its gutted frame, their horses whinnying at the stench.

A single dwelling had been spared.

Arthur paused at the entrance. Something squealed inside.

Dried herbs dangled from the walls. Broken pottery and trampled provisions littered the earthen floor, crackling under their footfall.

A woman lay belly-up on a mattress, her gut weeping crimson into the straw, milky eyes open to a world she could no longer see.

“Have you seen the strange markings on these pots?” Leon asked, brushing the crockery aside with his sword. “This is the home of a sorceress.”

Arthur closed the woman’s eyes, shrouding her corpse with his cape.

“Regardless, she deserves a proper burial,” he said.

Entangled in a net at the corner of the room shrieked a Merlin; wings writhing like sails in a squall. Arthur knelt beside it. He placed a steady hand at its breast.

As a youth he’d kept a goshawk found on a hunt, broken legged, but mended under his care. This bird was equally handsome.

“Come now,” Arthur cooed, stroking his fingers through the bird’s plumage. “I’m only trying to help.”

Yanking his dagger from his belt, he sliced opened the net. The Merlin cried out, rewarding Arthur with a nip before flying off.

It perched up in the rafters, watching him like a gargoyle.

“Little brat,” he teased, sucking his bloody thumb into his mouth. “Head south-east, if you know what’s good for you.”

***

The graves were not handsome, but they were solid and built of the men’s finest efforts.

Arthur recited the eulogy.

As the last reverence fell from his lips the branches of an oak tree swayed above him, sighing as a Merlin took flight.

***

Winter came.

It crept stealthily onto their cloaks and into their gloves. It froze wefts through their mail and out their boots, wracking their bodies with shivers.

The snow bound their eyelashes. It kissed their cheeks as it gagged their mouths, forcing them to stop mid-march and make camp.

***

Taking a piss beside the common tent, a glint in the sky caught Arthur’s eye; a bird, spiralling from the air as if thrown from heaven itself.

Tucking himself into his smalls, he trudged through snowdrifts towards a fresh crater.

Arthur shovelled a handful of ice, and then another.

A young man appeared hidden under a thin veil of powder. His cheeks were frost-burned, his hair black as ravens.

Arthur had never seen anyone so beautiful.

***

Arthur stumbled into the tent, cradling the semi-conscious foundling.

All eyes snapped upon him, the gaze of the knights sharper than the swords they carried.

The stranger groaned.

Leon took one look at Arthur and shook his head.

“I won’t let him die,” Arthur sputtered.

“Then he’ll need to be warmed,” said Leon.

 

***

Arthur shrugged off his mail, shucked his tunic, and divested his breeches.

The young man was lean, and pale as birch. He was so frigid that each laboured breath rattling his ribs seemed a miracle.

Arthur couldn’t say why the stranger’s life was of importance, and yet the thought of losing him to death was unacceptable.

He slid under the pile of furs, cradling the young man to his chest. For hours Arthur rubbed his hands over his cool flesh, willing him back to life with a steady rhythm of friction.

Soft hair dusted the man’s inner thighs. Arthur felt the velvet of his cock slide against his hip, hearing a slight hitch in his own voice as their bollocks grazed. Moulding his hands over smooth swells of buttocks, Arthur watched his foundling come alive under his touch.

This man wasn’t bedded for his pleasure, Arthur reminded himself. He mustn't confuse survival with lust.

The man’s teeth clacked. His body arched, lashes fluttering open as he came too.

He stared through Arthur, gasping.

“It’s all right,” Arthur cooed, stroking his fingers over the frightened man's cheek. “You’re safe.”

The man’s lips parted, his face surrendering deeper into Arthur’s palm.

And then the bastard bit him.

* * *

**36.**

October wind comes in through the opened window with smells of wet earth and dead leaves, but Merlin’s still too hot under his blazer, half-hard in his school trousers. 

Arthur’s gone for the weekend, so Merlin just takes everything off without worry, and grabs Arthur’s undershirt, yellowed-white and worn-soft.

He fattens up quick like this: the shirt to his nose, a hand on his dick, fingers in his arse, and a flush all over his skin--embarrassed, angry at himself for wanting it this way. He inhales and his dick jumps in his fist, spurts precome just from that.

***

“Is that what you like?” Arthur says, rolling his sleeves up. “Stick things in your ass? Steal a guy’s shirt?”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Wetter,” he says, watching Arthur lick his fingers. “Spit on them. Come on, fucking suck on them.”

It’s simpler in the almost-dark--behind the garden shed, deep into the school grounds--to not be too ashamed. It still churns in his stomach, but not enough to distract from the heat pooling there. Not enough to soften his dick. 

Arthur looks at him--at his shirt and tie and blazer all in place, but trousers around his ankles, fat dick peeking out from under the shirt’s hem. 

“Fucking look ridiculous,” he says, popping his fingers out of his mouth with a slick sound.

Merlin snorts. Arthur has his tie around his head like a dickhead and still smells like the wine they filched from the Headmaster’s office. “Yeah?” he says. “You don’t look like you mind much,” staring at Arthur’s bulge, all shadows between his legs.

Arthur grabs him, spins him around hard. “Come on, stick it out like you want to,” he says with a swat to Merlin’s arse, kicking the inside of his feet so Merlin widens his legs as much as he can. 

Whatever. Merlin sticks it out because, yes, that’s what he wants.

“Yeah, like that,” Arthur murmurs. His hand slides over Merlin’s arsecheek and squeezes. “Would love to watch you. See what it was like, the way you made yourself jizz all over my clothes.”

Merlin’s breath catches, grateful for the low light when he feels himself flush. He can’t contain the shiver that goes through him, hot cheek on the cool wood of the shed.

Arthur laughs low, fingers running up and down Merlin’s crack. “Slag.”

“Gonna complain?” Merlin says, sending him a look over his shoulder.

“This doesn’t mean--Just giving you what you want.” Arthur presses close so Merlin can feel him as he shoves one wet finger between his arsecheeks. He finds Merlin’s hole quickly and doesn’t stop to ask, just keeps pushing, rough little twists to screw them in good. “Aren’t I nice?”

***

Arthur’s procured lube. Asked Lance, who asked his girlfriend Gwen at St. Augustine’s, who asked her big brother. Now Lance says Arthur owes him one because Gwen’s brother thinks Lance does her backdoor. “Should be happy,” Arthur said. “Means you won’t get her preggers.”

Merlin’s naked on all fours on his bed, dick heavy between his thighs. “Did you really tell him that,” he asks, and Arthur hums, rubs lube over Merlin’s hole with the flat of his fingers. “Fuck you’re an asshole,” he adds, then, “Goddammit, Arthur. It’s not fucking lotion, fucking do something.”

Arthur shoves two fingers in without warning and starts pumping, steady and fast the way he knows by now Merlin likes.

For the first time, it’s light outside. From where he is on the bed, Merlin can see out the window where people are playing football. They wouldn’t see him, if they looked up, but it makes him hot anyway. He shoves back into Arthur’s fingers, gets his hands on the wall to straighten himself, curve his back, dick dripping on the bedsheets.

“More,” he says, breathless, quick, hand going from the wall to behind him. His fingertips brush Arthur’s wrist and he feels Arthur’s other hand curl around it.

“Put it in, then,” he says, rough and low. He guides Merlin’s hand, grips his middle finger and puts it where Merlin can feel the rim of his hole all stretched around Arthur’s fingers. “Show me how you do it. Let me see.” 

Merlin does, hooks his fingertip in, moans--from the stretch, the tightness and the heat. From the loud wet sound it makes, all the lube Arthur rubbed there to make it this easy. 

“Told you so,” Arthur says, and starts fucking in again, fingers rubbing Merlin’s own, dragging it deeper.

* * *

**37.**

He was passing Sergeant Smith in a passageway when the world slipped sideways and then they were clinging to each other, naked, in some sort of clearing surrounded by unfamiliar plants and – ugh, those unnerving little creatures with sharp claws and no eyes that he knew only from Smith's reports.

"Oh, that's rather inconvenient," she said, disengaging herself while Arthur scrambled for a weapon and, since he had none, awkwardly settled for holding his hands over his genitals. 

"What's going on?" he demanded. 

"Captain Pendragon," Smith said in a carefully controlled voice, "I'm fairly sure the Sagunil need for us to have sex now."

"They – _what_?"

"You see, I've been doing a lot of research on their lifecycle so they... they've suggested a reciprocal arrangement – which is really only fair, in principle! Though I was expecting them to bring me here with... er... someone I spend more of my time with."

"So tell them it's not happening," Arthur said, because he was a man of action and would not waste his time worrying about whom this incredibly intelligent and put-together xenobiologist, with soft skin and charming dimples and breasts that he had always tried not to stare at, though that was getting particularly difficult now, as she stared at him with her hands on her hips... No, he did _not_ care whom Gwen Smith would have preferred to preform weird sex acts for aliens with.

"Respectfully, sir, I can't very well _tell_ them without the comlink in place, can I?" 

"Er..."

She sighed. "They don't even use language the way we do, although they can perceive sound, and movement, and... well. Chemistry."

"We could scream," Arthur suggested. 

"The thing is, I may have already informed them that human screams can indicate intense pleasure, as well as distress."

"Sergeant Smith –"

"It's just Gwen, please." She stepped closer to him again, touched his elbow. "At least for now. As far as they're concerned we're just two humans – young and healthy ones, even. And our bodies fit together in a way that's interesting for them – they don't have genders, you know, or intercourse." 

Arthur hadn't known.

 

"I think we might as well give them a little show."

"And if we refuse?"

"Well, then they'll probably kill us and dissect us. Hopefully in that order!" She laughed briefly and then stopped. "They need _some_ new research material, don't they?"

She sat on the ground and tugged gently at Arthur's hand till he joined her. "Come on, haven't you ever thought about how we'd fit? I know I have."

"That wouldn't be appropriate," Arthur said, not looking at her.

"No, it wouldn't be, not back on the ship." She kissed him and placed his palm on her breast. "But here I can tell you, and you can feel for yourself. Whenever you look at me, my face and my chest go hot. Ever since I joined the expedition." In a whisper she added, "And my cunt, would you like to feel that too?"

Arthur nodded dumbly and she pulled at his wrist. His fingers hesitated at her curls but then slipped easily into her warm, wet opening. Gwen smiled wide as Arthur's mouth fell open.

"They must have been tracking my body temperatures," she mused, wrapping her arms around him and starting to ride his hand, "or maybe my blood flow or – but they must have sensed my arousal somehow, and that's how they knew to bring us here together."

"You wanted it to be someone else," Arthur said, withdrawing his hand.

Gwen huffed in exasperation and crawled on top of him. She'd been polite enough to ignore his erection up till now, but she gripped it firmly as she lowered herself onto his cock. "Listen better, Arthur," she ordered, and he did, gratefully, timing his thrusts to her words and moans as she told him, "I thought it would be, nnh, but I wanted this." She leaned close so her fabulous breasts touched his chest and they moved against each other in sweat and heat. "I fuck other men, yeah. I like them, we have a good time. But I'm always thinking of you."

"And me," Arthur grunted, "I'm always," thinking of her when he lay in his quarters, thrusting into his hand, "I never, with anyone else," because it was _never_ appropriate, not with the captain, the general's son.

"Oh, _Arthur_." He watched her face crumple as she understood, and he knew it wasn't with pain.

Arthur screamed as he came after her.

* * *

**38.**

Gwen and Morgana sit in the tense silence of the surveillance van, eyes fixed on the screen.

On it, Lancelot grows increasingly stiff--and not in a good way--as the businessman-cum-drug-lord tries to coax him onto the bed in the club’s private room.

"We shouldn't have used a civilian. I could've done this no problem," Morgana murmurs.

"Cendred wouldn't have gone for you," Gwen reminds her. "He's been in love with Lancelot for ages."

They all stare as Cendred pauses in unbuttoning Lance's shirt to ask what was wrong. Muffled club music pounds in the background. Lancelot's hands are clenched into fists.

Morgana sighs. "We're going to have pull him out. We'll find another way in."

"No," Gwen says. This is their _shot_ , and Lance had been so determined. _Hundreds of dead kids_ , he'd said, right before he'd swallowed hard and agreed to do it. Gwen leans forward and switches on the comms. "You're doing great, Lance, just relax."

Lance's eyes flicker up at the security cam as Cendred begins to kiss down his neck.

Morgana whispers urgently: "Cendred will kill him if this goes south."

Gwen knows. It's all she can think of for a blinding minute, but she also knows Lancelot, and he will never, ever forgive himself if they pull him out and then someone else gets hurt. He'd carry that forever. 

"Give us ten minutes," Gwen said, and stares down Morgana until she sighs and gets out of the van.

"Lancelot? Morgana went for a walk. It's just you and me now." Gwen chews on her lip. "I could...talk you through it? Look down if that's what you want."

Lancelot's gaze drops so fast that Gwen sucks in a breath.

"Good then. I'm right here."

Cendred has broken apart to strip off his suit, his gaze heavy on Lance.

"Might be easier if you don't have to look at him," Gwen suggests. "Tell him you want to fuck him."

"I want—," Lancelot repeats dutifully, but falters.

"Yeah, baby?" Cendred pulls off his socks and saunters over. "What do you want?"

"I want...to make love to you."

Oh god. Gwen feels disgusting all over again for putting this pure, earnest man in this situation.

Cendred laughs disbelievingly, his face going soft, because even the child-killer is charmed by Lancelot. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course, how do you want me?"

"On—. From behind. Please."

Cendred groans. "Only you would say 'please.’" He leaned in for a kiss before he dropped onto all fours on the bed. "Lube and condoms in the nightstand."

"You're doing so well," Gwen whispers as Lancelot retrieves them.

Lancelot fumbles with the condom. Gwen can't see it from this angle, but from the look of frustration on his face, he must be having difficulty getting hard enough.

"Think of someone else," Gwen urges gently. "Someone lovely. Who do you wish it were instead?"

"You," Lancelot says aloud.

Gwen freezes, heart beating like a kettle drum, while Cendred waggles his bum and says, "Hmm?"

"You," Lancelot repeats, after a beat. "You're lovely."

Cendred makes a little sound. "I can’t believe you—. I’ve wanted you forever, god, _fuck_ me."

Gwen recovers her ability to breathe. "Me, Lance?"

"Yeah," he breathes, and shuffles close against Cendred's arse.

"Think of me, then. Do it now."

Gwen can't see the place where they meet, but she does see slight grimace on Cendred's face as Lancelot works himself in, stiltedly. Still not properly hard enough, she guesses, and she almost wants to clutch her heart as he pats Cendred's murderous arse in apology.

"You're amazing," Gwen tells him. "I bet you would be so, so gentle with me, wouldn't you?"

Lancelot's breath picks up, and she watches his hips shift. She imagines him stiffening up inside Cendred’s body.

"You'd stroke me and make sure I was ready," and Gwen's moan matches Cendred's when Lancelot does it, reaching around to take Cendred in hand.

"I'd beg you to go faster, but you wouldn't, would you? You'd make sure I was dripping wet before you'd fuck me properly."

Lancelot's hips _snap_ at Cendred, who lets out a startled but sincere groan.

"Close your eyes, Lance," Gwen says. "Make love to me.”

And he does. He makes Cendred happy and trusting and—if there is a god—willing to give up security codes.

When Cendred comes, Gwen feels like he’s stolen an orgasm from her.

That’s alright. Gwen’s going to steal it back.

* * *

**39.**

“What the hell is going on here?” 

Merlin had never been so relieved to hear the clear ringing voice of his high school nemesis, Arthur Pendragon. 

He had made the mistake of getting caught alone in the boys’ locker room with Dagr and Ebor, two not very bright and very mean members of the football team Arthur captained. 

He was out in a small high school in a small town, and while most of his classmates were accepting, a few were not. There was a core group of jocks, including these two assholes, who were always harassing Merlin. 

Arthur was a senior, and Merlin was only a sophomore, but for some reason Arthur seemed to be in his face all the time. But he had to give Arthur credit; he didn’t seem to be homophobic. 

It was just that Merlin’s very presence seemed to antagonize Arthur, and he often taunted Merlin for his skinny frame and his bookish ways. 

But now he was pulling Dagr and Ebor away from where they had Merlin in a corner, _not_ cowering, thank you very much, even though it seemed like he was about to get beat up or worse. 

The two creeps beat a hasty retreat, and Arthur’s gaze raked Merlin from head to toe. “Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur’s voice was rough with anger and some other emotion Merlin couldn’t identify. 

“I was handling it,” Merlin said stiffly, even though he felt himself slumping into the wall in relief. 

“Yeah, you were gonna hold those two thugs off all by yourself, all buck thirty-five of you,” Arthur scoffed. “You are such an idiot!” 

But Arthur’s dismissive words were in contrast to his actions. He reached out and wrapped his hand around Merlin’s upper arm. With the warm touch all the stress and fear of thinking he was going to end up bleeding on the dirty locker room floor hit Merlin at once. 

“You’re shaking!” Arthur exclaimed, and pulled Merlin into his arms. 

The shaking subsided as Merlin leaned into the embrace, thinking how good it felt to have a man’s arms around him for the first time. 

Later he could not figure out what prompted him to do it, considering that he and Arthur hated each other, but he pulled Arthur’s head down and awkwardly swiped his lips across the other man’s mouth. 

Horror-stricken at what he had done, and worried that he was going to be beaten up after all, Merlin tried to pull away. 

But Arthur’s grip tightened and he crowded Merlin into the same corner he had been backed into earlier. 

“You looked so hot, defying those guys. You had your chin up and your eyes flashing, even though you didn’t stand a chance,” Arthur murmured into his ear. “Made me wanna do filthy things to you.” 

“Wha- what kind of filthy things?” Merlin stammered, not believing his ears, or his luck. Could the undisputed leader of the Avalon High School Knights be gay? 

It flashed through his mind that this was a trick, that Arthur might just be jerking him around, but despite their prickly relationship he knew Arthur had a reputation as a good guy. 

His fears were alleviated when Arthur answered teasingly, “Well, we’d start out slow, you being a virgin and all…” 

Merlin blushed to the roots of his hair. “You don’t know that!” 

Arthur chuckled. “Babe, I know.” Merlin squirmed and Arthur slid his hand up under Merlin’s shirt, pulling him closer. 

“So, after I’d gotten you used to having your cock touched and you could keep from blowing your wad in twenty seconds flat, I’d teach you about blow jobs. We’d start with me sucking you, so you can learn a few tricks.” 

Merlin looked down, embarrassed, but Arthur lifted his chin with two gentle fingers and said, “Little beauty, look at me when I tell you how I am going to take you apart.” 

Merlin bravely raised his eyes, and his prick hardened in his jeans. He saw only affection and desire on Arthur’s face, so he let Arthur unbutton his jeans and take his swollen cock in his big calloused hand. 

“Later on I’d teach you about fucking, find out if you like to top or bottom,” Arthur said, fisting Merlin in a way that really was going to have him coming pathetically soon. 

Arthur leaned in closer, and said into Merlin’s ear, “I’ll have you begging for it twice a day.” 

Merlin cried out and came in Arthur’s hand. 

* * *

**40.**

“Why did you decide to wear a dress?” Percy asked.

“It’s pretty.” Mordred shrugged. “I’d wear skirts more often, but my thighs are thicker so I always need to have something underneath. It’s too much of a bother sometimes.”

Percy looked down at where Mordred was seated halfway onto his lap. “Are those tights?” he asked quietly, his hand caressing the soft fabric above Mordred’s knee where the dress had ridden up.

“Stockings. They’re more like socks,” he explained when Percy didn’t reply.

Percy hummed. He didn’t look up when his fingers slipped further up and under the hem they found. “So you won’t have to take them off.”

“Fuck, Percy.” Mordred squirmed and looked around to make sure there was no one else left in the pub. “Everything’s locked up?” 

Percy made a noise of confirmation. “Wanna eat you out,” he whispered against his ear. Mordred felt a single finger brush over his underwear only for a second. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” Percy groaned. Mordred whimpered when Percy gently bit on his throat and sucked, more fingers joining the first and massaging Mordred’s clit over his underwear. 

“Been wet since I saw you tonight,” Mordred admitted. He groaned and gently pushed Percy’s hand away, then shifted until he was straddling him. “This sneaking around thing is getting kind of tiresome.”

Percy gave him a worried look. “Is it?”

Mordred sighed. “It _is_ kind of hot.” He smirked as he slid his hands up Percy’s chest. “But I’ve wanted to kiss you all night and I couldn’t with everyone else around.”

“You can kiss me now,” Percy said. Mordred chuckled and did just that. Percy pulled him closer and moaned into it. “I’m so glad Gwaine decided to bail and leave me to clean up,” he whispered in-between kisses.

Mordred laughed. “Some cleaning we’re gonna do.” He lifted the skirt until he could grind down on Percy and _feel_ it, but then he realised why that was a bad idea. He made to pull away, but Percival kept him in place with his hands on Mordred’s waist. “Baby, I’m gonna get you wet,” Mordred whispered, mortified almost. Percy just groaned again and pulled him down. Mordred whimpered and guided Percival’s lips to his neck, rode him through the rough denim of his jeans. He wanted to rip them off, take Percy’s cock and—

Percy held him tight and lifted him up, then promptly set him on the table behind. Mordred moaned when he felt Percy’s hands slide underneath his dress; Mordred had no idea when that had become a _thing_ for him but the sheer fucking _strength_ Percy possessed was enough to leave him a mess. He moaned and returned every rough kiss of Percy’s, his own hands struggling between getting Percy out of his shirt and keeping every inch of him as close to Mordred as possible.

“Fuck,” Mordred whispered. “Fuck, _please._ ”

“Can I?” Percy asked quietly.

“Fuck me?” 

“Well…” Percy said. One of his hands slipped to the front of Mordred’s panties and he bit on Mordred’s ear, letting out a soft moan. 

Mordred thought he could ride Percy’s hand to completion then and there, but he somehow managed to nod frantically and pull off his underwear with Percy’s help. He thought he’d twist around to the edge of the table that pointed outside of the booth, but instead Percy just sat back on the bench and looked up at him. Mordred whimpered and slid further, then toed off his shoes and let his legs frame Percy as he searched for stability. Percy glanced up at Mordred before he lifted up the dress, then settled between his thighs. 

Mordred had no idea whether Percy had done this before, but he didn’t seem to bring a single bit of his usual shyness into it. Mordred could hear his groans under his own, and he reveled in the way Percy pushed against him and held him down whenever Mordred threatened to slip away.

When he pushed past Mordred’s lips and licked inside, Mordred couldn’t help but place a hand on Percy’s head and hold him in place for a moment. When Percy replied by moaning and raising a hand to place upon Mordred’s and push down, Mordred whimpered and raised his hips once. It was easy to set a rhythm then, fuck Percy’s face until he came moaning his name.

Sneaking around was definitely worth it, Mordred decided as he licked his taste off Percy’s lips.

* * *

**41.**

The day Arsur was born, two out of their three suns shone a warm hello, and rainbows danced over the water.

Arsur tried reaching out to them, but they jumped merrily out of his way. Arthur watched them in awe; waved at them instead.

*

The first time he saw flowers, he bounced a little; and he couldn’t quite suppress a yell of excitement every time he found a beautifully coloured rock. He loved the ocean most of all, when he wasn’t cross with it for tossing him about quite rudely.

One day, when he was old enough, his father told him the rainbows had been dancing in grief, for his mother, who had died so he could live, and his pile of rocks became his mother’s grave, at the bottom of the ocean, where the suns would never reach her again.

*

The universe held many secrets, they told him; he trained and trained so he might be allowed to reach out to them.

Perhaps this was the reason for his strange dreams. But then, perhaps the universe could bring his mother back.

*

The spaceship was floating aimlessly, far from any inhabited world, and Arsur’s crew was on high alert.

The ship was filled with the strangest creatures, yet they seemed familiar, somehow.

“Bloopedibloop,” Arsur said, politely.

Somewhere to the left, someone let out a high-pitched scream; there was a bang, and something small and hard bounced painfully off Arsur’s head. Arsur kept his cool and corrected his greeting faux-pas. 

He shrieked and threw the piece of metal back.

“ _Ow_ ,” said the creature, which must be some form of thank you.

Another one approached, his eyes a strange play of golden colours, fire held in his hand.

Arsur carefully wrapped a tentacle around it; it was very hot, but diplomacy was key. He did not want to offend by refusing the offered gift.

“ _Ow_ ,” he said, solemn.

“I. Well. That,” said the creature, and Arsur lost patience with this nonsense. He slapped out the fire and shoved a tentacle into the creature’s mouth; read all the words off the back of its tongue, soaked in their meaning.

“Ewww,” said the creature.

“You look funny,” Arsur said, to break the ice.

“… You have tentacles!

“And you have… _those_ ,” Arthur said, gesturing at the strange limbs, trying to return the compliment. 

It was a long day.

*

Arsur recognised the planet when Merlin pointed it out on the display. It turned out ewmans looked a little different than his teachers had observed from afar (large, rocky, and fond of swimming).

“The ozone layer’s gone,” Merlin said. “There is nowhere we can go for food. I tried to push this one ship further out with magic, hoping we could return with good news, but…”

His father’s puckers quivered with anger when he discovered Arsur wanted to use their precious fuel to retrieve the other ewmans and settle them on a nearby planet. Arsur’s neck feathers rose; he would not abandon an entire species.

“I – thank you,” said Merlin, later. “I can’t believe I thought you were going to kill us. I almost killed _you_.”

Arsur’s tentacles shook with amusement. “Yes, you’ve found my weakness. Small fires.”

“Shut up. I can do more than small fires.”

He could. He could make large fires and rainbows with his hands and make them dance and he would laugh with joy. He’d let Arsur touch them. They did not taste like grief. 

Merlin’s eyes shimmered with blue and gold, and Arsur found it hard to look away. “I think I dreamed you up,” he said once, by accident, when the tiniest rainbow was jumping from one pucker to the next, then had to explain about his strange visions.

“Oh,” said Merlin. “ _Oh_. When Albion’s need is greatest… Oh, god.” He looked at Arsur as though he was seeing him for the first time; he looked stricken, then promptly doubled over with laughter. 

“I fail to see the humour,” Arsur said, stung.

“No, no,” Merlin hiccupped, “look at you. You’re beautiful. Alive.” Tears of laughter clung to his face as he bent over, pressed his lips to one of Arsur’s puckers; then the next. Something zinged inside of Arsur. He thought Merlin murmured, “I missed you,” but he was too busy shaking as Merlin touched him everywhere, with his hands and his mouth and his magic. 

“OK, that’s… surprisingly great,” Merlin said, when Arsur wrapped a tentacle around his cock.

Arsur saw rainbows when he came, and Merlin, and felt joy dance around his heart.


	8. Chapter 8

**42.**

 

Arthur bets two hundred Zafridian dollars that a couple of swigs of Klingon ale will render Merlin legless. Merlin moots the bet by turning off gravity. They get smashed and now they're gonna fuck. Just as soon as they figure out how.

* * *

**43.**

 

Being back in Ealdor makes Merlin feel eighteen again, but it's the beer and old mix tapes that make him bold enough to get this handsy behind the shed.

* * *

**44.**

 

There's nothing wrong with spending the holidays with your gal pal, right?

* * *

**45.**

 

Crimson Raider Emrys never has trouble turning in prisoners for bounty - until he meets Hyperion escapee Arthur Pendragon.

* * *

**46.**

 

Still loads of detail that need to be added :( But enjoy the view so far. I chose Canon, Drunk (the potion is an aphrodisiac, so they're drunk with lust :P) and Dubcon

* * *

**47.**

 

* * *

**48.**

 

Voyeurism&Kidnapping IN SPAAAACEEEEE

* * *

**49.**

 

Naiad Sophia likes to kidnap young maidens who come to bathe in her lake and have her wicked way with them.


End file.
